Arcanum
by AnnBlackwater
Summary: A Hawke/Carver story - not incest. What if Hawke is a Hawke only by name and not by blood? How does this affect her relationship with Carver? Who is Hawke, really? Please R&R!
1. Secret Feelings

A/N: Hello everyone, I've taken a bit of hiatus from writing but I'm back with a brand new story following a friend's prompt. To give a little background, she really wanted to explore the dynamics between Hawke/Carver whilst making it a romance. Whilst this story WILL NOT be an incest story, it does nevertheless cover some greyer areas of this general area. If I make anyone feel uncomfortable, I apologize in advance.

At the same time though, I hope readers will really stick through this story with me. I have to admit that this story was by far, one of the most challenging pieces that I have ever written and to get any kind of feedback to improve my writing would be much appreciated.

As for the title of this story. Arcanum is latin for 'secret' but it is also a word that has a great significance in the Dragon Age setting. More on that, however, I will not say. I simply hope the reader allows the secret of the story to reveal itself in time.

As always, please R&R and as always, you have my love!

Ann

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><p><strong>Arcanum <strong>

**Chapter 1 – Secret Feelings**

_Carver_

She was our sister, the eldest of the three of us. She certainly harboured that one year and two weeks over us constantly. Yet, sometimes when I looked at her, I could never remember her as my sister. Family? Sure, but more of a girl I grew up with. Sister? Not really. Right from the beginning, as far back as I can remember, I could never even _think_ of her as a sibling. It was as though I almost don't remember her being there my entire life. Maker, she didn't even share any physical traits with anyone in the family!

We've all got blue eyes. She's got brown eyes. Big, soulful, brown eyes – deep chocolate brown – the kind of eyes that sunk into a man's bones and mind. A boy of twelve doesn't notice such things though. One of the earliest memories I have of her was when Bethany told her, "I love your eyes. I've just got blue eyes. You've got big chocolate coloured eyes. The boys were talking about how pretty they were", and I countered with, "I'm a boy and I think her eyes are the same colour and size as big shit."

Mother had not been pleased with my language and had sent me to my room without dinner. When I begged Bethany to steal away some dinner for me, she had fervently shaken her head and said in a miffed tone, "It's punishment for being rude. Our sister is pretty and you made her feel ugly. You deserved it."

Very late that night, my sister had snuck out of the bedroom she shared with Bethany and into mine, gentle hands pushing against the creaking door one minute inch at a time. With a finger pressed against her lips, she closed the door with equal cautiousness, fearful of waking our parents before handing over a small clothed bundle, her other hand glowing with a magical blue orb to give us light. I opened it to reveal the leftover contents of dinner. I smiled at her in desperate relief. 'She really isn't so bad', I thought at the time whilst munching on sweet bread.

When I had finished with the food, I uncharacteristically kissed her cheek. She bade me goodnight, wiped the corners of my mouth with the cloth and slowly began to open the door, creeping upon her tiptoes. It was then I asked her, "Why?"

She turned around to look at me, the orb reflected in her eyes making them a strange blue-black. I repeated, "Why? Why did you bring me dinner? Aren't you upset with me?"

"No," was her one word answer.

"Why not?" I asked her, truly curious.

"Because it doesn't matter. It is your opinion and you should be allowed that. Mother punished you for saying a rude word." Her voice was whispered, hushed to quiet.

I didn't believe her and argued, "Bethany said it was 'cause I made you feel ugly."

She shook her head, "You didn't."

It didn't make any sense. I told her she had eyes the colour of shit, for the Maker's sake! I nearly yelled, "Why not? Aren't you afraid all the boys will think you're ugly and not like you?"

There was something in her eyes that night, something hauntingly sweet like she was remembering a distant memory. It was wistful but I thought it was just the way the orb reflected in her eyes when she said, "Because I only need one person in the whole of Thedas to think I'm beautiful. Just one. It doesn't matter if everyone else thinks my eyes are the colour of shit. It doesn't matter if everyone thinks I'm ugly. I only need one person to think I'm beautiful. For now, it is Bethany. One day, it'll be a man. And I'll only ever need one."

She was only one year older than me but at thirteen, there was a surprising amount of wisdom in her lanky, little body. I recognized it as her way of holding that one year of maturity over me and I became petty about it. She was wiser than me and she made it sound like she would never need me. Even at twelve, that bothered me more than I could say.

Soon after that, she began to sprout. Her body lengthened like an irritating weed over me, she began to develop womanly curves, she even grew out her hair and the last few resemblances she shared with Bethany dissipated entirely. It became abundantly clear that her -also chocolate brown - hair was not just messy as I had assumed, it was wavy – curly tresses of hair that brought much delight to both Mother and Bethany in helping her braid it each morning. I often heard Bethany sigh out in exasperation, "No one in our family has curly hair. You're the only one." I hated how she got all the attention so I tugged her braid as often as I could.

The last of her puppy fat left her cheeks and she no longer had Bethany's or Mother's heart-shaped face or as Father affectionately called it, 'a sweetheart's face'. Her face lengthened into a more oval shape, something Father named, 'a perfect teardrop face' and she grew into those big eyes of hers, giving her a softer feminine look.

When we first arrived in Lothering, she was fifteen and the eyes of every boy were upon her when she walked to town. At fourteen, I very nearly saw red. I didn't understand my feelings at the time and almost everyday, I found some ungodly reason to pick fights with her, insult her, argue with her and threaten to tell the Templars that she was an apostate mage.

Sometimes she argued back, sometimes she fought back, sometimes she told her Mabari to snap at my heels and sometimes she even shot a jolt of lightening my way though she always kept it light. But she never actually held a grudge and by the next day, all was forgiven and she was unfailingly _nice._ I hated her for that goody-two-shoes act. I thought she was a pushover, a rug on the floor for anyone to walk over. She was the suck-up, the butt-kisser, the shoe-shiner that everyone loved. The boys stared at her, all parents adored her, even babies held their arms out to be held. It made me sick.

And Father – he treasured her for her mage talents, even more so than Bethany for she was fast in her learning, poured over tomes diligently, powerful for a young girl and could put me down on my ass at a moment's notice. I wanted to strangle her sometimes. I wanted to prove to Father that I was just as capable. Just as strong. But she was always stronger. I resented her.

That was until I turned sixteen. She was a beautiful girl at seventeen, slender and lithe, tall and willowy. Well, for a girl at least. I was fast surpassing her in height. It was around that time that I really began to notice how attractive she was becoming. It was a bright spring morning when her humming outside my window woke me from my much needed sleep. Instantly angry, I trudged to the window to shout at her. She had plucked a blooming pink rose from Mother's garden and weaved it behind her ear. Surly and brash, I yelled at her, "Hey Hales!"

She turned to me, a flirtatiously sweet smile playing across her lips. It bowled me over. My jaw dropped and the sleepiness that had overwhelmed my mind instantly cleared. Sunlight streamed about her, highlighting all the occasional strands of copper and gold in her hair, making it seem lighter than the ordinary dark brown. Her voice teased me, the lilting tones almost making me shiver in delight, "Yes, Carver?"

I wanted to scream at her, had originally intended to do so but instead, my voice was hoarse when I asked her, "Could you… um… keep it down a bit?"

She was obviously in a good mood for she stepped to the window and stood on the tips of her toes to brush a good morning kiss against my lips. It was nothing that should have caused my gut and fists to clench, it was nothing that should have made me want to reach out of the window and kiss her even more deeply for she gave Bethany, Mother and Father kisses like those every morning. Even I got kisses like those on my birthday or other special occasions. But something had changed within me. It meant so much more. Not just family. But more. I hated the confusion, the conflict. I tried to call her 'sister' even more to remind myself of our bond, thought I couldn't feel it. I ended up sneering the word to her. I felt sick knowing that she was _my own sister_ and she made me hard.

It was also around that time that I realized how _hated_ she was. By the girls. It made hating her easier. Just to spite her and the feelings I had for her, I started seeing Peaches. Honestly, there was _nothing_ between her ears and she whinged about my sister far too much but she was a warm body, tender and supple and my sister cringed every time she saw us kissing. Just for that, I kissed Peaches in front of her at almost any opportunity and maybe it was because of that, the gap between us seemed to grow ever so much more. She shook her head with a patronising attitude I despised, looking at me like I was an idiot of a boy and so, I spent even more time with Peaches because her almost pretentious moans of pleasure stroked my ego.

The three of us became known as the 'Hawke Heartbreakers' at the Lothering markets. The girls flocked around me at the local festivals and the men buzzed like flies around my sisters. I know that Bethany never actually had anyone for she rejected every man's advances. As for Hales, I could never actually be sure. If she did have a partner, she never mentioned his name, he never came over for dinner, she never came home at some ungodly hour in the morning and they, if such a 'they' existed at all, were extremely discreet. It made her finding me and Peaches rolling in the hay late one night all the more unacceptable. Her voice was icy and she strode into the barn like she owned the place. Her eyes watched us with an indifference that was almost humiliating. She tilted her head and watched Peaches in a calculating way before gesturing to her skirts which had been bunched up almost to her waist, "And thus, you thought to be a lady of society? What I see before me is nothing better than any girl at the brothel." Peaches took her cue to run out of the barn whilst Hales' Mabari, Widge, growled menacingly.

Angry, I shoved my sister roughly, shouting at her, "What the hell was that for? Can't you just leave me alone?"

She leaned against the oak walls of the barn and said in a scathing tone, "It was our parents or me. If she got any louder, and by the way, she's far too loud, it would have been our parents."

It didn't matter that she was trying to keep me out of trouble. What mattered was that she was insulting my manhood, telling me I couldn't pleasure a woman properly. I hissed poisonously, "Don't impose your frustrations upon me. Just because you're jealous of her doesn't mean-"

Hales laughed, her amusement tainted with something almost vile, "Jealous? Of her? Why? Because she got thrown in a bale of hay and had a boy squirm on top of her?"

It stung and in that moment, I was very tempted to throw her into the hay and show her what a _boy_ could do to her. Instead I argued, "The way you talk, you'd sooner emasculate someone than make them feel like a man!"

She smiled with patronising unconcern, "Is that what she does? Does she make you feel like a man?"

I nodded resolutely, "Yes."

Hales' eyes filled with disappointment and she turned to walk back to the house, her last words echoing constantly in my mind, "If you need a woman beneath you to make you feel like a man, then you are no man at all."

That was truly the low point of our relationship. She rarely spoke to me, addressing me with an almost formal tone only when completely necessary. Even so, the gap was bridging if only due to the respect I was beginning to feel for her again. She didn't realize though for it was mostly one-sided. I began to understand that she was truly matured in some things but where she attained that maturity, I didn't know. Though at first I thought she was still too polite, I realized eventually that her strength came from knowing when to accept defeat and when to push her point.

She took a stand against Mother when she realized she no longer wanted to go to the Chantry every week. It was over breakfast when she told everyone, "Have fun at the Chantry. I won't be going."

Mother was astounded, "No! That is not negotiable, young lady."

I had expected her to cave but she shook her head, "I believe in doing good things. I believe that there is a Maker to judge us for our good deeds when we pass. I could even believe in the magisters corrupting the Golden City but I don't believe I'm going to sit idly by listening to a bunch of gossipers talk to one another about how mages are second rate and 'Why waste resources for them at all? Let's just cull them when they are born!'", she said in an animated fashion, fingers up in the air to symbolize quotation marks.

Mother was going to argue but Father waved her off, "Very well. If this is your wish, you are certainly old enough to decide for yourself. Even so, I want you to help out at the Chantry when they need volunteers."

Hales had happily compromised. Bethany tried to argue, "If she doesn't have to go, I don't want to go either." Honestly, I just about loathed the Chantry but something within me caused me to interrupt and though I can never actually believe I said something so ridiculous, I told Bethany, "We're younger than she is. We don't understand the world the way she does. We can decide when we're seventeen."

The argument had abated and Hales stared at me with something akin to shock in her eyes and a hopeful smile across her lips. Just knowing I had her approval sent a strangely warm feeling right through my chest. When Bethany and I left with our parents to town, a warm glow swimming through my blood, Hales promised to have lunch on the table when we returned. Though listening to some preacher prattle on for the better part of the morning almost had me regretting what I had said, the satisfaction and reward came when I could smell Hales baking almost a mile away from home.

She had made my favourites – salted ham sandwiches with fresh, still warm bread; small slices of cheese lay on crunchy crackers, served on the dining table. I could smell the gingery tang of cinnamon in the air and I strode to the kitchens to investigate. There she was, sprinkling frosting all over the apple and cherry pie that was cooling on the rack. She really _had_ made all of my favourites. I felt good, loved and despite not really wanting anyone to know that because men didn't do the whole emotions thing, I leaned against the kitchen counter and dipped my finger into the frosting bowl to lick off the sugary substance. She chuckled almost wistfully.

I asked with friendliness, "Need any help?"

She moved her head up to look at me for by that point, I was already taller than she. There was a strange softness in her eyes as she shook her head and then looked away. I turned her chin back to face me as I murmured in question, "What?"

"Nothing," she whispered back, close enough for me to smell the tang of ginger on her breath. Then her eyes locked with mine for a second and her voice was husky, "For a while there, I thought I lost you completely. You were so distant from me."

As she finished off the pie and began slicing it with precision, I told her with a half-chuckle, "I just enjoy fighting with you but you couldn't lose me. You're my –" I couldn't bring myself to say 'sister'. It had been a while, I realized, since I felt for her in that way again. I had found her very irritating for quite the span of time and suddenly, her presence made my body tighten up, made my blood beat strangely in my head. Even her scent was making my knees lock funny. With a soft groan, I wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the smudge of frosting that was on her cheek. She giggled but she didn't seem to understand my true predicament.

I tried to speak again, "You're family," and because I could hear the scrapes of chairs against the floor waking me up from the half domestic atmosphere of the kitchen, I joked with her, "Not to mention, your cooking is just too good."

Hales chuckled, leaning against my arm as she murmured, "Don't let Mother hear you say that or she'll have me cooking every single day."

I know I shouldn't have but I buried my face behind her ear for a moment to question silkily, "What will you give me to buy my silence?"

I could feel her heart pounding, reverberating through her back and into my chest. I watched her finish slicing up the pie into six equal pieces, her hands shaking from the intimacy of my actions and I knew – I knew that whatever conflicting emotion I felt for her, she could feel it too. I was not alone. It didn't stop her from turning in my arms and brushing a kiss against my mouth. It was simple, just a brush of lips, an almost casual brush of butterfly's wings but her eyes gave her away. They had darkened past chocolate, mysterious and sweet and I held her for a second longer than was necessary, kissed her once more than was appropriate.

Something about that moment was forever branded in my mind – the domestic atmosphere, the casual touches that were akin to lovers rather than siblings and most of all, her eyes.

Bethany was right. They really were beautiful.

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><p>AN: I will hopefully update soon! Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	2. Secret Kisses

**Chapter 2 – Secret Kisses**

_Carver_

The very next morning before my eyes even opened, I thought about her. My Hales. My… dare I say it, lover? My girl? The thought made me giddy. I felt a stupid grin cover my face which was unlike me. Yet, it was so wrong. It went against everything we had ever been taught. If our parents ever found out… the thought made ice settle in my gut. So wrong… so wrong! I repeated in my head but it _felt so good_.

When I heard her soft footsteps echoing from her bedroom, I threw the covers off me and rose from bed too. I waited, only opening my door when hers creaked open. We stared at each other for a moment, elated, scared, nervous, guilty but I reasoned with myself – we could act like siblings. We _would _act like siblings. If Hales could kiss Bethany, she could kiss me. It made me feel better but I knew it was just an excuse.

She looked at her feet, her heavy eyelashes a thick fan over her cheek. I whispered a gentle "Good morning," and before she could look up and speak, I brushed a light kiss over her mouth. No one saw and if they had, no one would ever suspect but we knew that it wasn't so simple. I could feel a sudden pulse of lyrium tinging the air, flowing off her body in a moment of heat and surprise. The metallic hint was sweet at the back of my tongue.

It began a tension filled routine that I knew the both of us enjoyed. It was our own little secret. Our own little world. We greeted one another with a soft kiss in the morning. When we could, we spent time with one another. I stopped flirting with the town girls and instead offered my arm to her and to Bethany as well, if she was there. The 'Hawke Heartbreakers' had slowly lost their name. The girls forgot about me and the men seemed to realize that flirting with Hales and Bethany was pointless. Bethany rejected their advances and Hales, whether the men knew it or not, belonged to me.

Our eyes would catch one another, the love in her eyes much more than that of simple familial love. Her hand would casually brush mine or I'd gently touch her hip as I walked past her. There was a soft kiss before the evening as well before we slept though often, we snuck out to the front of the house around midnight to spend time with one another. We still often sniped and argued with one another during the day if only to keep up pretences. "Maker! I'm so sick of your whiny little voice!" she would yell at me and I would retort, "Sometimes, I wish I told the Templars what you were so that I'd never have to see your stupid face again."

She would apologize and I would apologize the next time we were alone together but eventually, these apologies stemmed. We never meant those words and there was no point saying 'sorry'. In a way, those insults were just another way of saying 'I love you' though we _never_ said those words.

And it was there, whilst we sat on the dewy grasses outside our house that the two of us were honest with one another. We talked about everything, our parents, our relationships with Bethany, the world, politics, even idle gossip. I often held her, wrapping an arm around her delicate figure as she leaned into my chest. She smelt like the cool evening, mysterious night orchids or a hint of fresh jasmine in her hair. Hales whispered one night, "What are we doing, Carver?"

"I don't know," I replied, for I truly did not but continued, "I just know that whatever this is, I don't want to let go of it." It was wrong, so wrong, I knew that but I couldn't just let her stay in my life and not take more from her.

"It isn't right," she told me, "Us going around like this. Not even if…", she sighed and looked at her knees.

"Not even if what?" I asked her authoritatively, "What are you hiding from me?" I wanted her to hide something, I realized, anything that could allow us to be together because what we were was just… sick!

She shook her head, "Nothing. Nothing that would change what we are. It just isn't right."

I tried to console her, "We haven't done anything," as I stroked her hair, pulling out the hair band that tied up her religiously braided hair so I could card my fingers through her soft tresses. She hummed in comfort before admonishing me, "Carver, that doesn't mean anything. When we –", she groaned as she broke off.

I finished off the sentence for her, "When we kiss, we're not siblings. I know."

"Carver," she began but I cut her off and asked her, lips a mere inch from hers meant to entice, "Are you really going to stop?"

Her answering brush of lips quelled any questions and doubts that I could feel but I still couldn't help that strange feeling from welling up inside of me – she was hiding something. But what could she possibly be hiding? I had grown up with this girl. What secrets could she possibly hide? Whatever the case, I knew she felt guilt and I knew I had to lessen it somehow. We began to spend less time together, we snuck out less and I made it a point to touch her less. I even left her for a short while to join the King's army.

We had been hearing rumours of a Blight for a while though only a few stray darkspawn had ever been found. I wanted to do something, wanted to help and prove to the world that I was strong enough to take out anything it threw at me. Not to mention, Hales needed the space, at least so she could sort her own thoughts out. Women were like that. Men were much simpler. _I knew_ what I was willing to do. I wanted Hales. Nothing else mattered. She didn't seem to think like that.

When I announced to the family, "I'm going to Ostagar to help the King tomorrow", the expressions of joy were half-hearted. Father was proud of me but I could see the worry in his eyes. Mother was partially tearing up from fear of losing her only son. Bethany gave a partially sickened smile and patted me on the back, not knowing what to say. And Hales… her expression had frozen, only desperate fear welling in her eyes. She didn't pretend to be happy for me. She was worried for me – like I needed protecting or something. I wasn't sure if I loved her or hated her for it.

I knew she would be waiting for me, that she would want to talk or at least spend some time. When I heard our parents retire, I went outside. She was sitting on the wooden fence, her cotton shift almost translucent in the moonlight. Her hair was untied, a mass of curls falling down her back. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed the top of her head. Her hands slid up the back of my arms to rest just below my shoulders. She kneaded the flesh with her fingertips, pressing and letting go but said nothing.

Her silence irked me and I told her, "Say something. I'm leaving tomorrow. Don't you want to tell me anything?"

Her voice was cracked and broken, like she was trying to swallow a lump in her throat, "I'll miss you. Please be careful." When I heard it, I swung my legs over the fence to stand in front of her, shocked to find her eyes glistening with unshed tears. I cradled her cheek in the palm of my hand and she closed her eyes, tears unintentionally spilling down her face. Hot tears scorched my palms and my heart squeezed with an emotion that I could barely define. I told her with what I hoped was a strong voice, "I'm coming back. Your cooking is too good to stay away for long."

Hales managed a sad laugh and I continued, "You're the one that needs to be careful. Mother isn't much of a warrior and the three of you are apostates. Don't let the Templars get you."

She nodded but she didn't smile. I joked, trying to illicit any reaction from her, "I would have thought you'd be happy to see me go after all the grief I've given you."

Her glare was quick and dirty, "Don't even joke about that," then she turned her gaze back to her knees before she froze completely and asked me in revelation, head whipping up towards me, "You're going to fight because of me!"

"No!" I shouted, "Maker's hairy ass, no! I'm going because I want to. Giving you some time to think things through is just a bonus but I want to fight. I want to help. I want to do something worthwhile."

Hales shoved me by the shoulders, hissing at me, "You're sixteen! What do you know about doing something worthwhile! You've got the rest of your life to do worthwhile things that don't involve dying on some stupid battlefield!"

I took her by the waist and rolled her beneath me into the grass. Her feminine hands clenched into fists and she beat them against my shoulders. I accepted the continual abuse and told her with conviction, "I'm not going to die on some stupid battlefield. I wouldn't let you get away from me _that_ easily."

I gently kissed her brow as she began to stop fighting me, lying slack beneath me. I could hear her deep breaths, feel the rise and fall of her chest. I stared into her eyes, wondering if it would be the last time the two of us would be together like this. I hoped not. I needed her, needed this. I just didn't care that it was wrong anymore. We had gone through it this long, what did it really matter? With an exasperated groan, I lowered my mouth to hers, chastely kissing her but holding myself there longer than I ever had before. We stayed, wrapped in each other's arms until dawn.

When morning came, the two of us were exhausted and I know Mother noticed. I was certain she was beginning to suspect but if she did, she did not question – at least, not that very morning anyway. Breakfast was a dim and quiet affair, everyone not wanting to say goodbye. When it was time, the waterworks began to come. First from Mother, then from Bethany. Father managed to keep it in. The three of them waved me off from the house whilst Hales chose to accompany me for a short distance, just beyond the first bend downhill.

She kept her tears in, she had cried enough the previous night but I could see the sadness in her eyes, the tight pursing of her mouth and the little indents on her lips where she had nibbled into. When I was certain our family could not see us, I held her tightly in my arms, trying to absorb as much of the moment as I could knowing that it would be a while before I even saw her, much less be able to touch her. There was a soft brush of lips and without a single word, she watched me go, silent and motionless aside from the breeze that flipped through her hair. It was another image I never forgot, her fathomless eyes and sweet scent carrying me through many lonely nights.

_Hales_

It was surprising how quickly the next six months passed considering how much I missed Carver. The lack of a well-built teenager made home seem spacious. The lack of his deep voice made home seem quiet. I missed him, I missed the way his lanky arms made me feel small, how his height made me feel feminine and delicate, how the heat of his body would warm me. The nights seemed lonely without his presence, seeing as my habit of staying outside the house till late in the night was one I could never break. I wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he was safe. He sent letters now and again but they were addressed to the family and so, it was difficult to really know his most private thoughts. When I finally turned eighteen, it seemed empty without him. When two weeks later, it was his and Bethany's seventeenth birthday, the house felt less than it normally did. I think having Widge around made it easier. My Mabari often kept me company and he seemed to understand my sadness. He chased birds to cheer me up but he wasn't Carver and though Widge comforted me, it just wasn't the same.

I tried to keep abreast on the rumours of darkspawn but they were few and far between. I knew the Grey Wardens were gathering and recruiting. I heard that King Cailan was accompanying the Grey Wardens. "Foolish man," said Father, "he doesn't understand that war holds no true glory." I had to agree and wondered if Carver understood. Probably not, I thought.

And because of all these rumours, many families left Lothering. Much of the surrounding farmlands had been vacated. Both my and Bethany's friends left for fear of being killed by the Blight and even a lover turned friend, Mikhail, had left with his Father for Denerim. It was an unplanned trip; he had time only to visit me in the morning to let me know that he was leaving. My days became all the more lonely.

Then deep in winter, tragedy struck our family. Father had been acting strangely that morning. He stared out the window, a look of wonder on his face. As I sat beside him, he told me, "The world is a beautiful place. I wonder if I can see such a beautiful sunrise when I pass away."

I replied, "I'm sure the view is even better."

He smiled at me, kissing my forehead, enfolding my hands in his as he told me, "I love you very much and I am so very proud of you. One day, I know you will do great things."

I had laughed, "Oh Father, I'd be happy just to live a simple life."

He had touched the top of my head gently and told me, "Nay, sweetling. Bethany is my sweet rosebud, a woman that is innocent and protected. She might live that simple life. Carver is my iron fist, a man of strength and impact. He will leave a few craters on this world, I think."

"And me?" I asked him sweetly.

He cradled my face in his palm, coarse but gentle, his fingertips rough against my skin, "You are my burning, fiery star, the one who will make a mark on the world so deep that it will last forever."

I had smiled at me, indulgent and shook my head, "I am just a simple farm girl."

"At heart, perhaps", he nodded, "You have a sweet heart, a true heart but you have a backbone made of pure steel." Wisely, I said nothing and just studied him. His eyes were bright blue, so very clear bright blue, almost as light as the sky. And though his hair had turned silver and grey, wrinkles and lines appeared on his face, he was still a very distinguished man and most of all, my very dear Father. Then his eyes became urgent and he implored, "Promise me one thing?"

"Anything Father, anything at all", I promised.

"When the world seems dark, promise me you will never harden your heart. Promise me that you will live life, enjoy life, and never lose yourself to the darkness."

I nodded, not really understanding his words but promising him anyway, "Of course, Father."

As Mother and Bethany's voice sounded, I began to rise from my seat. Father's hand stopped me as he said, "And tell your brother that he must look after your Mother, Bethany and you as well –"

"Me?" I scoffed, "I'm the oldest!"

He waved my words aside, "Yes, tell him that he must also look after you and when he does, he has my support."

"Your support?" I questioned, curious as to what he was talking about.

"Tell your brother. One day, he will understand."

After dinner, I know he had pulled Bethany aside to talk to her as well. I spoke to Bethany late that night, asking her what Father said to her. She said, "He just told me that I was to study hard, learn more magic and that he loved me and was very proud of me. That's it."

"Did he mention Carver at all?" I asked.

She rolled over, "Nope", and fell asleep shortly thereafter.

I had to wonder if he was sick. I was becoming suspicious and told myself that I would speak to him the following morning. I never got the chance. He passed away in his sleep, peacefully and quietly without any suffering whatsoever, a content smile gracing his face. Somehow, he had known that his time had come and he wanted to give his children messages before he died.

The house seemed all the quieter, all the lonelier and I was at a loss as to how I should comfort Mother and Bethany when all I wanted was to curl up and cry. Still, I tried to be strong. When Mother wouldn't eat, I wheedled and prodded. When Bethany cried, I rocked her as she slept in my arms. I had to be strong for my family but as a result, I had very little time to mourn for myself. I felt exhausted, confused and cheerless. Not even the sun's rays could warm me.

A week later, after we buried Father, I left for Ostagar. I couldn't bring myself to write a letter to Carver to tell him of Father's death. I couldn't do it. I told Bethany that I would be back within a few days and entrusted her to keep Mother safe. I made Carver's favourite foods and bundled them up in a basket and travelled down the Imperial Highway for Ostagar.

The camp was dirty and full of men. Now and again, I saw a few females but they were few and far between. Loud, raucous laughter sounded in my ears and the smell of sweat and musk was in the air. I almost shook my head in disdain. Carver _never_ smelt like that, no matter how filthy he was.

I was also attracting a lot of attention. Men whistled when I walked past. I bristled and fought the impulse to throw a fireball. Knowing I couldn't perform magic without exposing myself, I took a deep breath and strode through the large camp, keeping myself in check as much as I could.

I asked for Carver now and again but I was pointed in various conflicting directions and realizing that no one really knew where he was, I walked around as much as I could. One way or another, I'd find him, I thought to myself.

_Carver_

It had been a very long day out in the Wilds. Trekking through all the mud and gunk was agony for my muscles. I was sore, I was aching and I was exhausted. After I cleaned up in the river, washed myself and dressed in clothes, all I wanted to do was skip dinner and throw myself into bed. The food at camp was disastrous. Disgusting and foul was the baseline. The men seemed to believe that food wasn't worth eating if there wasn't something wrong with it.

When I made it to my tent, the men who lived in neighbouring tents were talking eagerly about some young and pretty chit who was walking around camp. I had to wonder what girl in her right mind would come to a camp filled with stinking males with almost no sense of hygiene.

Bruiser, one of the men, clapped me on the back and said excitedly, "Some gal is lookin' for ya, Carver! She says she's lookin' for a 'Carver' anyway and I dunno no Carver 'sides you. Who's she, eh?"

That made me perk up, "She's looking for me? What did she look like? Where is she?"

He shrugged, "I just know some pretty girl is lookin' for ya. Dunno what she looks like!"

Davis answered for me, "Tall, lanky thing. Thin too. Got really pale skin, dark braided hair that goes to her chest-"

I swore foully and asked, "That's Hales. Where is she?" All the while, my mind was spinning angrily in my head. What the hell did she think she was doing, coming to Ostagar? Maker's balls, was she suddenly stupid or something? Did she _want_ someone to arrest her as an apostate?

"Last I heard she was wandering towards the makeshift larder. She should be coming towards our direction."

I stormed off towards the stench of burning food, elated and angry. Both sides warred inside me. I wanted to see her. I wanted to hold her in my arms. I had missed her so terribly during the last months. I also wanted to send her home. What was she thinking?

I found her surrounded by a group of men drooling over her beauty rather than over the food they were currently eating. She was wearing a light blue dress, the material frothy and soft, accentuating her willowy figure. Seeing her was like a breath of fresh air until she smiled politely to the men and my eyes narrowed in jealousy. I called out to her in a curt tone, "Hales."

It quelled the monster within a little to see her rush to me without any hesitation, a basket on her arm. I put my hand in the small of her back, glared at the men and ushered her towards my tent without a word. Along the way, the men stared and the ones who lived near me actually cheered when I pointed her into my tent.

We settled onto the bedroll and I glared at her before accusing, "What do you think you are doing here flirting with those men in camp?"

She dared to roll her eyes before retorting, "I'm not here to flirt –"

"You could have fooled me!" I almost shouted, jealousy still raging through my veins, "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be –"

"Father died," she interrupted and all the blood drained from my face. As I stared at her, shocked and unable to accept what she had said, Hales continued, "He had been acting strange that morning, telling me how proud he was of me and how much he loved me. When he did the same to Bethany, I knew something was wrong. I thought I would have time to ask him what was going on, whether he was sick but that night, he died in his sleep. He was smiling in his sleep when he died. I couldn't write you a letter. I just couldn't do it."

My voice cracked, "But he was healthy… healthy as a horse." The pain was a sharp ache in my chest. I could barely breathe. Father… dead… how could it be?

She nodded, resigned and defeated. "How long?" I managed.

"A week," she murmured.

"Bethany? Mother?" I asked urgently, almost irrationally thinking that death was contagious.

She shrugged, "They are fine considering the circumstances. I've managed to make Mother eat and I've been there for Bethany when she needs me."

"Should I come home?" I asked her.

Hales shook her head, "We've already buried Father. It isn't necessary. You do what you have to here and you come home when you are ready."

"Did…Did he have anything to say to me?" I asked, not knowing what to feel. I had missed his funeral. I didn't know how he passed. I was… he was gone. When was the last time I had seen him? Six months ago. My mind felt blank.

Her voice shook, "He said a lot of things to me that morning. He said that you were like his iron fist, a man of strength and impact. He said that he thinks you will leave a few craters on this world." Hales swallowed hard, her throat constricting as she tried to sound the words out, "He also told me to tell you that you have to look after Mother, Bethany and me. I protested that I was the oldest but he said that you have to look after me as well and when you do, you have his support. I wasn't sure what he meant by that but he said that one day you would understand."

We sat for a very long time, just looking at one another. Tears fell from my eyes but she said nothing. Silence reigned. She touched my arm in comfort but there was little that could be done. Nothing could bring him back. Nothing. He was gone. Gone. The word continually echoed in my mind.

Somehow, I found myself staring at her. She had lost weight. She was pale and there were shadows under her eyes. I knew instantly that she had been trying to look after Mother and Bethany and she had very little time for herself. It certainly explained her mechanic motions of pulling out food from the basket whilst she explained, "I know you probably don't want to eat but you need to. You need to keep your strength. I made your favourites," she tried for a hopeful tone.

She had dried fruits and cheeses, salted ham sandwiches and a few slices of apple and cherry pie. I didn't want to make her life difficult and so, began to eat. I offered her a bite of my sandwich but she shook her head, "I've already eaten. I'm not hungry."

I pulled her into my body, rubbed my hands against her ribcage and told her, "Don't lie to me. You've lost weight." I asked her in a serious tone, "When was the last time you looked after yourself?"

"I'm fine," she insisted but I pressed the sandwich to her lips. Dutifully, she ate. We said nothing, both of us barely tasting the food. When we were done, she folded the cloth back into the basket and said in a mothering tone, ready to crawl out of my tent, "I guess you want to sleep. I should go."

I gave her a withering look and dragged her back to the bedroll, "Don't try to baby me. I'm not your little brother," I said on impulse.

"Aren't you?" she asked.

"Am I?" I countered.

She looked away guiltily. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her down to the bedroll, holding her close as we lay together, her head naturally burying into my chest. "I've missed you," I told her, "Maker, I've missed you."

She murmured her assent into my chest. I buried my face into her hair and inhaled. She still smelt the same, jasmine and orchids in a cool, moonlit night. "It's been so lonely without you, Carver." I loved how she said my name. She was my comfort, here in my arms. I could grieve. Father was gone but she was here. Hales was here. She made it easier when the tears fell. The pain was duller with her around. The memories could be pushed away with her around.

I lifted her chin and bent my head down to partake in her sweetness. Chaste kisses but deep, deeper than any other kiss we had shared. Maker, kissing her was even more exciting than screwing with Peaches. Hales was in my blood, in the air I breathed and it was irresistible. Her lips moved like silk against mine and my hands grazed the outside of her thighs. Her breath hitched, soft but no less poignant to my ears. It served only to encourage rather than deter me. I stroked the back of her knee and Maker, her skin was like satin – it drove me insane with heat.

When I finally lifted my head from hers, she pushed me away, rolling to the edge of the bedroll to clear her throat and tell me with assertiveness, "I should go. I told Bethany I'd be home in a few days." The moment was over like cold water had been thrown over my head.

"Stay," I requested, "Father told me to look after you. Let me." I wanted to look after her. She needed me. The heat was gone, fading quickly but the care was still there.

She had the audacity to roll her eyes at me and retorted, "I am the oldest. I need to look after Mother and Bethany. I need to look after _you._ Not the other way around."

"Don't give me that crap," I said in a rough tone, a slight bite audible in my voice, "You've looked after Mother and Bethany enough. Bethany can take the reins for a while. A few days means three or four days." I argued childishly, "It takes a day at most to travel between Lothering and Ostagar. One to Ostagar, one back home, you can at least spend another day here. You need this, Hales. You need time for yourself."

She yawned; tired from the day she spent travelling and murmured, "I guess I could leave tomorrow morning."

I commanded her, eagerly mimicking my superiors in the battlefield, "You will stay tomorrow and leave the following day."

She complained, "I'm the oldest. You don't get to order me around!"

"Yeah?" I asked, "Well when you look like shit and feel," my fingers grazed her ribcage and she twisted away, "like a lamppost, I get to order you around."

"Thank you _so _much," she glared at me.

I reached for her, tugged her to me. She tried to fight at first but not having my strength, she rolled her eyes and accepted it. I ordered, "Tell me how you are really, not what you try to pretend to be in front of Bethany and Mother to keep up morale."

She countered, "You don't seem upset about Father."

"I am," I said. I understood what she meant though. I seemed almost unaffected. I knew why. She was here. It was very simple. "I'll need time for his death to sink in, to understand what has happened but what I'm seeing in front of me gives me more concern than Father's death."

Hales shot me a questioning glance and I tried to explain, "Father… he's gone," I tried to convince myself, "and there is little I can do about it. What I can do now is to remember him and honour him," my voice became stronger, the words coming easier, "by doing as he asked and remembering what he taught me. I won't let you waste away trying to hold up the family when I can shoulder some of the burden."

"Wasting away is a slight overstatement, Carver. I don't need anyone to look after me." She said in her prim and proper voice.

She was always better at words than I was so I dragged her to me, rubbing my thumb underneath her eyes, "Shadows," then my fingers slid down her cheek, "pale," before coming to rest on her ribcage, "and losing weight. I fail to see how those three words can equate to _not _wasting away. You need me to look after you, too. So stop fighting me and talk."

I needed to look after her. I wasn't just her little brother. I needed to be that someone she could lean on and after a slight hesitation, her walls wore down, "Mother doesn't eat and Bethany is distraught. I want to cry all the time but if I did, it would only make them feel worse. I feel… I don't even know." I could hear the tears in her voice, "I should have asked him that morning what had gotten into him but I was sure he'd be fine. I keep thinking back to the things he said to me. I can't help but think that he'll never be there to see me really grow up." She sobbed against me and I felt the lump grow in my throat until my vision blurred as well. She whispered repeatedly, "I should have asked. I should have said something. I should have asked."

I rubbed her back, her shoulders shaking as her body wracked from sobbing. There were no words that I could say. Here were her innermost thoughts, bared for the world, aching for support and all I could tell her was, "It isn't your fault. You said he was happy. He smiled when he died. Don't blame yourself."

I ran my fingers through her hair, lightly scratching at her scalp to comfort her. When her sobs died down, she turned red-rimmed eyes upon me to ask, "Are you alright?" I kissed her brow and nodded. To an outsider, my reactions towards the news might have seemed cold or uncaring but it was not so. My relationship with my parents was different. I respected my Father, learnt a great deal from him and we cared about each other very much but unlike Hales or even Bethany, I couldn't be considered his darling child. I suppose that was the difference between having sons and daughters. I missed him, the pain was like a screw twisting inside my chest but I grieved for him differently.

Wanting to make her happy again, I murmured in her ear, "I know it's the wrong time but I wanted to say 'Happy Birthday'. It's really late but I want you to know that I remembered."

I felt her smile against my neck, her nose nuzzling into my skin as she asked, "Do I get a present?"

I chuckled, feeling lighter than I should have been and reached for my satchel, digging around for her present. I dangled an amulet in front of her face. It was a simple amulet, just an oval shaped, sky blue crystal pendant hung upon a fine, silver chain yet she gasped in admiration, "It's beautiful, the exact colour of your eyes."

I almost blushed. Fastening it around her neck, I told her, "I found it in some hidden cache in the Wilds one day. It's something to remember me by when I'm here in Ostagar." I became shy, slightly embarrassed and stuttered out, "Erm… don't… don't ever take it off."

She fingered her necklace and nodded, "Never…but what will I give you? Your birthday was two weeks after mine."

I laughed, husky and relieved, "Give me a kiss and then just sleep with me."

She squawked, indignation steaming from her ears, "What?"

Realizing what I had said, I swore, "Shit. No! No. I meant – like sleep. I'm tired. You're tired. Sleep. With me. Not, sleeping sleep – Shit!"

Hales teased, "I don't know which is funnier. This or that one time I caught little, tiny you doing business in the bushes, pants around your ankles."

My fingers sussed at her ticklish spots, making her squirm as I threatened, hoarding my strength over her, "Who are you calling _little_?"

She was too exhausted to escape and we fell asleep, for the first time, in each other's arms. It wasn't enough. I wasn't sure it would ever be but it was… _nice_.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, chapter two. Let me know what you guys think of these two introductory chapters so far. Good? Bad? Scrap it? Keep going?

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	3. Secret Memories

**Chapter 3 – Secret Memories**

_Carver_

I shifted the straps of my armour up to my shoulders, tripping on the gauntlets that were still on the floor. The metal clanked upon contact, my boots kicking the jangling pieces of armour and I swore when I fell, my elbow hitting the stool that sat at the edges of my tent. The blankets shifted, the sounds of wrinkling sheets rubbing against one another as Hales turned, an entirely too appealing mewl dragging out from the back of her throat. She sat up, casting me an adomishing look, "You swear far too much, Carver." Her patronising tone was ruined by her rumpled countenance, her misbehaving curls of hair falling over her eyes and tickling her chin.

I smiled, picked up my gauntlets and kneeled at the edge of the bedroll so I could brush her hair away from her face, tucking the strands behind her ear and kiss her. Her fingers slid to the back of my neck, pulling me downwards as she fell back against the pillows. Maker, I thought, what a perfect start to my day. Or any day, for that matter.

Then I heard Bruiser's voice, yelling outside my tent, ruining the moment, "Oy Carver! You up yet? It's getting' late and we gotsa meet the Cap'n by the gate next to the Mabari pens."

"Maker, you're an idiot. He's got that pretty chit in his tent. Do you think he's actually up? Actually, he probably is _up_ – just not the way Captain expects," came Davis' chastising voice.

As Hales smothered her laughter into the pillows, I groaned inwardly. I would be getting countless questions, bothered endlessly for details about the 'pretty chit'. I said to her roughly to hide my embarrassment, "Sleep some more. When you wake, feel free to walk around. The men are pretty slack about visitors. Just stay in camp and you'll be fine."

She nodded her assent and pecked my cheek before shoving me out of the tent with more strength than she should possess. No sympathy, I thought to myself with a grin as I strode out. The men gave me a knowing glance before roaring out in laughter. I shoved at them, hissing poisonously, "She's sleeping!" and for a moment as we all walked away, I thought I heard a feminine giggle echoing from my tent.

I got no rest from them. They wanted to know who she was, how we met, whether she was good in bed. I kept silent the entire time. When they complained, I told them with a swift and irritated tone, "We're on the lookout for darkspawn. Bother me with questions later." They complained amongst themselves some more. Granted, I had never been adverse to some dirty jokes but when it came to Hales – just not happening. It didn't help that I knew a dark haired little witch was sleeping in my bed.

My day just couldn't get any longer.

_Hales_

When I finally woke again, I felt more refreshed than I had in the last week or so. Carver had been right, I needed that time away if only to recuperate for myself.

He... had not been what I expected. I had thought to find my little brother in need of comfort but he surprised me. I hadn't expected his mental strength. Perhaps, maturity _was_ beginning to seed it him. Then again, I mused to myself, our strange relationship might not have started if not for his now-and-again maturity that he seemed to possess. Carver had really grown quite a bit in the six months away from home. Most of it was the same, like the glossy, midnight, black hair. The sky-blue eyes hadn't changed and neither had the line of his nose. But there _were_ changes. He had lost the rest of his puppy fat, his jawline and chin were stronger, more strictly defined than before. He was taller and even his chest and shoulders felt broader. I was certain that were he to return home, the house would surely feel smaller.

The camp was empty, giving me the freedom to wander. It was dirty and sweat stank in almost every corner of the camp. Socks were thrown about, filthy underwear sat proudly like a flag atop some of the tents and I shook my head in wonder, were men really like this in the real world? I wouldn't have thought so. None of my friends had socks thrown about... or maybe, they just had mothers who regularly cleaned out their bedrooms.

Somehow, I found myself amidst the Grey Warden territory but no one bothered me. It wasn't until I was leaning over the Mabari pens, scratching one of them behind their ears that a young man's voice called out to me.

"Wow, you must be the first person who hasn't had their fingers bitten off." Light, humorous and slightly sarcastic.

I gave the Mabari a last scratch and responded, "I have a Mabari back home so I'm used to it, I guess." I smiled to the man as I turned around and froze, my breath stopped entirely.

Light brown hair that stuck up uniformly all over, familiar dark honey brown eyes stared back at me, a boyish and whimsical smile was pasted across his lips and he fidgeted, his hands making quick motions like he was nervous.

No, he couldn't be. Maker, could it be him?

Then he asked me, "Do we know each other? Have we met?" He chuckled nervously and said, "That's actually not a come on. I'm being serious."

I was about to reply but he shrugged, going off in a monologue, "What am I saying? Of course I have. I've probably seen you around camp haven't I? Although…you're a mage, aren't you?"

I gasped, fear started to make my heart pound and he waved his hands, "No, no! I'm not going to _kill_ you! I used to be a Templar, well, I was almost a Templar and I could sense it in you, that's all. Although, you're not a Grey Warden yet, huh? Are you a new recruit? There haven't been any new recruits since me actually so it'd be nice to finally have someone new join our ranks!"

I couldn't help the nod that just _happened_. He grinned at me, dimples winking at the corners of his mouth and the familiarity almost bowled me over, "Don't be nervous. I'm sure you'll be fine. We're all like a family. We just tease but don't worry, we're real nice to a lady. We don't have any female Grey Wardens so it'll be fun!"

He spoke like a really fast wind, gushing out his words, almost stringing his words without breathing. So similar… I nodded weakly.

"So, what's your name?" he asked me just as an older Grey Warden with a black ponytail called out from a few yards behind him, "Alistair!"

My world spun. Peripherally, I knew that the man called Alistair looked behind him to say, "Coming Duncan!" before facing me to smile, "Don't be nervous. I'm sure everything will be fine. We'll talk later!"

I took my opportunity to escape. I found a dark corner, leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. His name was Alistair. Alistair. And his fidget! And his voice! And his dimples! And his _smile…_When the knowledge settled and I found my feet again, I took myself mechanically back towards Carver's tent, the memories that I had kept locked up inside me for thirteen years rushed out all at once. The very last memory was the first.

_The fire was burning strong, keeping us warm from the harsh winter. It was snowing outside and I could see the white clumps of fluff that were falling through the glass window. I was wearing a soft, purple dress and around my neck was something heavy. I took it out, feeling put out as I stared at the heavy ring, a red stone embedded in a solid gold band, hung on the chain that I was instructed to wear. Shoving it back into my dress, I sighed, sitting on the plush carpet, feeling very bored until he shot over from the door, gasping for breath._

"_Hales! Hales! Hales! Oh, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." His light brown hair stuck in all sorts of angles, glints of blonde showing from the fire's light. He rushed his words, no spaces or gaps to take a breath. _

_I had screwed up my nose, giggled at the sweat beading across his forehead and gave him my handkerchief, complaining, "You're all wet, Alistair."_

_He plonked down beside me in a huff, pulling at his collared shirt, scratching at his exposed neck as he dabbed away the moisture. He told me with a panting breath, "You know how we were talking about nicknames? I have one for you." He was so enthusiastic, the smile brightened up his face like the sun. Dimples, tiny indents, were pressed at the corners of his mouth. _

_I rolled onto my stomach, my face cupped in my hands and giggled, my voice high-pitched in my delight, "Really?"_

"_Sweetheart. That's your nickname. People say it for people they love. You're my sister. Half-sister but that doesn't matter." He waved his hands about actively. I blinked, he had spoken so fast I could barely understand. _

_I tried it for myself, "Sweetheart. Sweetheart." I nodded, not knowing any better, "I like it."_

_He nodded, then I nodded and then we giggled, childishly and foolishly. I asked, "What will your nickname be?" I thought to myself on the spot, "Alis? No, that sounds like a girl. A-list?" He shook his head. I tried, "Stair?" He laughed at me, falling backwards so he was staring up at the ceiling, lying down on his back. After a moment, I slammed my hand on the carpet, making him jump and told him, "I know! I will call you 'darling'."_

"_Darling…" he said a few times before nodding to himself, "I like it."_

_I watched the fire crackle, telling Alistair, "One day, I want to be a fire. I'll be great, big and powerful. That or a star…Do you think our Daddy will come see us then?"_

_He moved beside me, lying on his stomach as well and threw a friendly arm over my shoulder. He sighed, "I don't think he'll ever come see us but it doesn't matter."_

"_It doesn't?" I squeaked out in surprise, "Why not?"_

"_I've got you. You've got me. That's all we'll ever need. You're my sister!" he said with conviction. _

"_Half-sister." I reminded him._

"_That half doesn't matter anyway."_

_I yawned and my hands pushed at his shoulders to roll him over so I could put my head in his lap. __I tried to say through another yawn, "I saw _her_. I- Is-"_

_He supplied for me, "Lady Isolde."_

_I grimaced, "She sounds yucky. She's Or-Orle-"_

_Once again, he supplied, "Orlesian."_

_I stamped my foot against the carpet and insisted, "Yucky," before yawning yet again._

"_It's late. You should get some sleep," he told me, his chubby hands patting at my equally chubby face. _

_I shrugged, "Mother always forgets me and there are monsters in my room."_

_It was a routine that was often repeated. It was bedtime and there was never anyone to put the two of us to bed. I hated sleeping for it meant being alone and insisted that monsters were in my room. With careful hands, he pulled me to my feet and we ventured towards a place Alistair called 'the servant's quarters'. With his room next to mine, he often tucked me into bed, or rather a small cot that constituted my bed. _

_When I crawled into bed, he dutifully pulled the scratchy blankets to my chin. He would tell me the same thing every night, "See? No monsters. Now sleep."_

_That night, he had left something by the table – a drawing. He told me, "You can see it in the morning and tell me if you like it in the afternoon."_

For the rest of the day, I found myself sitting in the makeshift kitchen where the food smelt awful to the point that my conflicted thoughts were pierced. These men were warriors and they evidently had no experience in cooking. Needing something to busy myself with, I offered to help cook. As I stirred the soup or cut up the bread, my mind was a whir. Maker, was that really him? I shook my head, no, surely not. It couldn't be. A lot of men were called Alistair. A lot of men had brown hair and dark honey brown eyes and a whimsical smile and a nervous fidget that were also called Alistair. No. We were far away from Redcliffe. It couldn't be him.

Still, there was a knife that was twisting in my chest - a knife that represented a life that I had left behind; a life that had abandoned me.

That drawing that he put on my table; I remembered carrying it with me all day the following morning but it was the last time I ever saw him again.

My brother.

My real brother.

When Carver returned with his friends, I was still distracted and hopelessly conflicted, an emotional turmoil in my mind. Father's death, my relationship with Carver, the familiarity of Alistair, my lies to Carver… Carver, Carver, Carver. I helped serve the food in large trays for the men to take just as an excuse to busy myself, refusing to meet Carver's eyes though he tried to lock his with mine multiple times. That was until I burned the back of my hand on a hot, metal grate and hissed loudly.

Carver was beside me in an instant, taking my injured hand in his, his gauntlets a cool salve for my skin. "It's nothing, I can heal it," I whispered.

"Not here," he replied before lifting my hand to his lips for an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue scraping my skin, swirling against the burn as I swallowed nervously, his eyes locking with mine. I lost my breath staring into his smouldering, molten blue eyes. My heart thudded loudly in my chest. I said, part panicky and part nervous, "Not here!"

He shrugged, flippant and uncaring, "They don't know a damn thing."

When the men jeered in the background, his eyes flickered to the periphery. Ignoring them, he asked me with an intensity in his eyes that made me look to a spot left of his ear, "Are you alright? You seem…distressed."

I tried to smile and succeeded, "I'm fine."

He nodded, stoic and unsmiling before pulling me to the table.

"This is really great food," became "I actually want seconds!" became "Want to stay and cook for us everyday?" which in turn, became "Oh Maker, I don't remember the last time I ate such great food!" and finally, became "Marry me, please!"

Carver sneered, "She's taken."

I stared at Carver in shock but he didn't deign to look back at me.

The men asked him, "Come on, Carver. We've been waiting all day! Tell us the story."

"Story? What story?" I asked them.

"How the two of ya met, sweetie!" called out a man with a very rural Ferelden accent. He gave a coarse giggle and asked, "Is she really your girl?"

There was no hesitation when Carver answered, "Yes, she is. So keep your paws in check."

I coughed into my soup, leaning back to cover my mouth with my hands. He returned my look of panic with total unconcern and indifference. "Ah ha! I think the lady protests!" said Davis, his eyes humorous and without a hint of malice.

Carver's responses held no real bite either, "Fuck off, Davis. She's sleeping in my tent. Not yours."

"Carver!" I looked at him with a thunderous expression.

He grinned, flippant and impish, "Yes? Are you ready to go?"

I made an angry noise at the back of my throat, lifted my skirts and stormed off. Behind me, I heard the men laughing and teasing at Carver. Unrepentant, he put his arm around my waist and feeling embarrassed, I shoved him as hard as I could. I took him off guard, he stumbled and fell into the dirt. There was more jeering from behind us but when Carver lifted his head from the ground, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Knowing that I couldn't perform magic, I did what every other girl would have.

I ran for it, laughing all the way. I forgot everything but the chase. The wind caught my hair, making it fly out behind me like a long, black flag. The breeze fluttered through my skirts and air rushed in and out of my lungs. He tore after me, heavy clanking of metal drawing closer and closer. The camp offered no real protection. I couldn't close a door in his face, lock him out of his tent and I certainly couldn't outrun him for long. Outside his tent, I held my arms up and tried to placate, "Now Carver… it was just an accident. Don't go doing something silly. I didn't think I'd be able to shove you into the dirt." By accident, a small giggle slipped out and he saw red. Charging the rest of the distance between us, he threw me over his shoulder and entered the tent without a word, dumping me on the bedroll without ceremony.

I laughed, the giggles ripped itself out of me as he continued to glare, throwing his metal armour around the tent floor. I tried to apologize, "I'm sorry, it just…_happened!"_

"Yeah. You look real sorry, too." He sulked, sitting on the edge of the bedroll, "I looked like an idiot."

Now and again, he was back to sulking like the little brother I knew. I knelt behind his back, hands curled around his neck to rest on his chest. I nuzzled his neck, the musky but not yet stale scent of sweat lingering on his skin. I appeased, "You know they are just jealous. They'd love to have their own women shoving them into the dirt, I'm sure."

Slightly mollified but not yet forgiving, he said snidely, "You still owe me."

Rolling my eyes, I leaned back on the bedroll, sigh with exasperation, "And how would you like for me to repay you?"

His tone was cold and harsh, "You can tell me what happened to you today."

I sat up again, crossing my legs to ask him in what I hoped was a neutral voice, "What are you talking about?"

He gripped the wrist of my injured hand and waved it in front of me, "Don't try that tone of voice with me. Something happened to you. You were distracted and your face was all screwed up. What. Happened. To. You."

"Nothing!" I protested, my voice becoming stringy from panic. I wasn't afraid of him. I was afraid of him finding out.

"Don't you lie to me!" he yelled, his anger flickering in his eyes.

I shrugged, "I woke up! I walked around! I saw a few Mabari, scratched them a bit, spoke to a Grey Warden who was a Templar, who knew I was a mage but thought I was a Grey Warden recruit then I helped out. Nothing happened!" I insisted, "I freaked out a bit because I thought he was going to turn me in but he said he wouldn't and that was that! Nothing happened!"

It was mostly true. Nothing had happened. Most of my emotional turmoil had come from within rather than from the outside. Carver's grip softened but his eyes were still very intolerant. I waited and looked away until his hand let go. When his touch was gone, I crawled to the other side of the tent, sitting on the wooden stool. Too much of an explosion, I thought. He grimaced at my reaction.

I diverted, throwing at him accusingly, "What were you thinking, telling the men I was 'your girl'? Maker, what if they found out?"

"They don't know a damn thing," he huffed out, uncaring to the volume of his voice.

I shook my head, "This is wrong, Carver. We can't keep doing this." With a start, I realized that my diversion of subject hadn't diverted at all. All of my lies or omissions had everything to do with our relationship.

"Sure we can," he said like a child, "We can do whatever the hell we want."

"It doesn't work that way and you bloody well know that!" I said, equally as rough. The day's emotions caught up with me, everything caught up with me and I put my face in my hands, my voice dull and morose, "Why is it that Father's gone and yet the pain eases when you're here? Why is it that the whole world is falling apart and all that rings in my mind, day in and day out, is your name? Why? Why? Why does everything end up revolving around you now?"

Everything in my life suddenly went back to Carver. The truth about my past diverted back to Carver. Father's death diverted back to Carver. Carver. Carver. Carver.

I let him pull me into his arms, felt his lips upon my hair and I whispered, "This is wrong. Nothing will ever make it right. No matter what, it can never be right. We can't do this." My next words were a cruel knife in my chest and judging by the way he tensed, it hurt him equally, "One day, you will want more than I can give, more than I should give, more than we can or should do. I'm a Hawke too, Carver."

He pulled away to look at me, thrusting me a foot away from him, both of his hands grasping my arms as he shook me, "You say that like I somehow don't know this! Andraste's tits, how do you think _I_ feel," he cried out and then lowered his voice, "knowing my own _sister_ turns me on and burns me faster than a fucking fire?"

Despite his crude language, my heart ached, my heartstrings pulled within me and tears threatened. I wanted the pain to end and I asked, "Do you really know what that means? It was too late for us, right from the start. If I never became a Hawke…" I stopped my words, standing up suddenly, realizing I very nearly said too much. I turned away from him, face in my hands.

"Never became? Did you have a choice?" He asked at my back and he pushed me to sit beside him so he could reveal, "Every time we talk about this, I can't help but feel like you're hiding something from me. I got it the first time six months ago, just before I joined the army. I keep getting that feeling. I'm not the kind of guy who gets paranoid so what aren't you telling me? Is there something you aren't telling me?" There was a pleading tone in his voice, like he _wanted_ me to hide something from him.

Of course I wasn't telling him something. Of course I was hiding something from him but no matter what, the truth could never set us free. It would only make it worse. It would encourage rather than obstruct his behaviour and nothing would change. In name and in family, I was his sister. It didn't matter if I really wasn't. It didn't matter if everyone knew. The fact that I wasn't really his blood sister made no difference.

This was wrong.

I told him, "Of course not."

I lied. By the Maker, had I lied.

Very late that night when most had gone to sleep, Carver and I went to the stream to wash and clean. In the moonlight, everything was illuminated but still dark. I pulled myself underwater as more memories welled up in my mind – all the things I had locked away.

"_There! You see? You are beautiful, with your Mother's curls and your Father's eyes," said a young woman in the mirror, her face next to mine. She had bright green eyes and long brown hair, full of bouncy curls. Her fingers swept down the bridge of my nose and pinched my cheeks lightly to give them colour. _

_Smiling at me through the looking glass, she asked, "Now, where is that butterfly clip I got you?" _

_It was on the dressing table and without really meaning to, I lifted it into the air without touching it. Her face paled almost green as she gasped in horror, "How? Did you?" She stuttered._

_I nodded, it had been something I had done before. Nothing difficult. Alistair had called me something he termed 'a mage' but told me to keep it secret. I hadn't told anyone but him. As she took two steps back, I ignored her, looking to the card in my hand. Alistair's drawing. It was a red flower, with the caption of 'A Rose for Hales' underneath. I had clutched it to my chest, so happy to have a brother to love me, eagerly waiting for the afternoon so I could tell him how much I adored the picture. _

_She took me to the markets, Redcliffe markets and asked me to stay by the wagon whilst she went to buy a few things for dinner. _

_She left me there and I never saw her again._

She was my mother.

My real mother.

I swam up to the surface, the water reaching just underneath my collarbones. As I stayed afloat, I rubbed my face with my hands and felt, rather than saw, Carver's gaze lingering upon me just a few feet away. His blue eyes looked almost midnight as he swam towards me, sliding his hands up and down my naked arms and shoulders. As his fingers slid up my neck, tilting my chin so he could see my eyes, his words were husky, "Promise me you won't hide things from me."

And with my fingers crossed behind my back, my gut churning with guilt, I nodded.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so here is chapter 3. This is kind of the first chapter where the plot thickens so please let me know what you think.

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	4. Secret Hatred

**Chapter 4 – Secret Hatred**

_Hales_

Three months passed and Ferelden fell into summer. The breeze was dry, hot and the sun ray's beat at the earth. The dirt beneath my feet cracked from dehydration yet the grasses still grew strong, green and tall. Over this time, Mother and Bethany slowly recovered, more and more adapting to the lack of a man around the house. Even I had come to accept that my lies had already been firmly established and there was no point living in guilt, though it often rose within me in the dead of the night. I choked upon it when the house was quiet around me and I shivered fearfully over the thought that one day, Carver would find out my true identity.

It wasn't something I had ever spoken about. Certainly not with my family. I never spoke to Mother about it. I never spoke to Father about it. The fact that I was adopted never came up and Carver and Bethany never seemed to remember the fact that I was just a new addition to the family. One day, I was simply a part of it. End of story.

_It was night but no one came for me. I was alone. I closed my eyes and silent tears fell. They were hot, scorching my cheeks until the cool breeze of the night chilled them dry. Though I was only five, I knew I had been abandoned. My mother did not want me. Yet, that was not what caused me pain. My mother had never been a particularly active part of my life. I would never see Alistair again. My brother, my joy, the only family I really knew, the only person I had love for. Alistair. _

_The only person who loved me. _

_I should have listened to him. I should never have let my mother know that I was 'a mage'. If only I followed my brother's instructions. _

_Maybe I could walk home, I thought. I took towards any direction, walking, walking, walking. I was lost. I knew that but somehow, I made it back to the Chantry. I stood at the entrances of the church, staring up at the massive wooden beams, the statue of Andraste watching from above. A man bent down to speak with me, beautiful blue eyes, light brown hair and stubble on his chin. Then my vision blurred as he asked, "Are you lost, little girl?"_

_I cried all the harder but shook my head. "What's your name?" he asked, gentle and careful. _

"_Hales."_

"_Well Hales, where are your parents?"_

_I held the drawing to my chest and managed, "I don't have a father. Mother left me here because I'm… I'm… My brother told me I'm a mage." I couldn't keep the secret in. It didn't matter anymore. I didn't have Alistair. Life wasn't worth living in anymore. _

_His breath caught in his throat and he picked me up, his hand covering my back as I sobbed into his neck. My chubby arms were around his neck in an instant. I was taken to a small house where I was given food and water. I sat quietly, hoping that I would be kept safe. Maybe they would like me. _

_I stayed one night, then two, then three. After a week, Malcolm and Leandra sat me down and told me, "Hales, from now on, we'll be your parents. You can live with us and we'll be a family. Together."_

_I started calling them 'Mother' and 'Father' after that. Bethany and Carver became my siblings. The first word I taught Bethany was 'sister' and after that, 'Hales' although she was speaking almost in full sentences already. She and Carver were already four. _

_I knew I would never see Alistair again but at least now, I had a family. _

I never asked questions. Malcolm was my father. Leandra was my mother. Bethany was my sister. Carver was my brother. I was a Hawke. I was an apostate and my father taught me all that he could so that I was safe, talented and powerful. Whatever I had once been, I wasn't anymore. I never spoke of that life ever again. Not to my family. I had mentioned things to Mikhail, my old lover from Lothering but even he knew only a little.

All this, it hadn't been a problem until now. Not until Carver. But he would never know. I would never tell him. That was all that mattered. When he came back, whatever was between us would be over. I would make sure of that. I would sit him down and make him understand that I was his sister and our relationship could not continue. That would surely be the end of things.

Then we heard that Ostagar had been lost and every thought I had, every plan I had made flew out of mind. Carver... was he safe? Where was he? I yearned to feel him alive and in my arms again. I wanted to see his eyes glowing brightly as he looked upon me. I wanted to hear his angry sniping, to see his surly brooding. Anything to see him safe.

And the other part of me screamed to know if _Alistair _was safe. Where was he? Brother or no, I wanted to know if he was alive, too.

Lothering was soon swarmed with an influx of refugees, all of them dirty and bedraggled. They shouted loudly about the darkspawn, how they were coming and would surely kill us all. Mother told us that we would have to leave but we would stay for as long as we could, trying to wait for Carver. The rumours also spoke of two Grey Wardens that had survived. They were in town with a barely clad woman. Mother told me that they had freed the Qunari murderer.

I went to the markets, looking for him. I found him with two women. An apostate and another Grey Warden. I didn't care for them, didn't bother to even look.

Alistair.

Safe.

He saw me and though I knew I shouldn't have, I waved to him. He spoke briefly to the Grey Warden and the three of them came towards me. Alistair was saddened, his face weary and depressed, and I knew that he had lost his friends to battle. His hair was dishevelled, his face covered with grime and soot, his armour soiled by darkspawn blood.

"You were at the camp and then you just disappeared," he said to me, evidently bone tired and exhausted. I nodded as he continued, "and you're here. How did you get away? I don't sense the taint…"

The apostate snapped her teeth together and I could feel the power from her. A Witch. I knew instantly what she was. She hissed, "She is an apostate, you fool!"

My voice was equally cold, "And you are a Witch of the Wilds."

She narrowed her eyes at me, calculating and mocking, "Ah, the little girl is not so foolish after all. Alistair, you must learn to be smarter like the women of the world."

I felt my spine straighten and I said simply, "This little girl cares little for your thoughts and opinions. I am here to speak with Alistair only."

Her bird-like eyes glowed deeper amber for a moment and she stepped forward to threaten, "Do not anger me, child."

I carried no staff but I loosened my hold on my mana, letting the lyrium pulse through my veins and string through the air. They felt it, that I knew for certain. It was enough to cause the Grey Warden lady to step forward, her arm out to restrain, "Enough, Morrigan."

I turned my gaze upon her. Noble blood, she had the features of the nobility, delicate and pointy. Her lips were full but not luscious and her gaze was one that was used to commanding. She said pointedly, "We'll be over there, Alistair."

The first words out of his mouth were, "You're not a Grey Warden."

I shook my head, "I had family in the camp. I was visiting. He wasn't a Grey Warden but I haven't heard any news from Ostagar. I just know that… we lost."

Alistair snarled, his frustrations getting the better of him, "Is _that_ the story they're spreading?"

I implored, "Please. Tell me what happened."

He said without any inflection in his voice, "Loghain pulled out his troops and left the Grey Wardens to die. King Cailan died. Now, he's telling anyone who will listen that the Grey Wardens are the ones who committed treason. As though that could be true, all of them are dead!"

I gasped, my hand over my mouth as I expected the worst. He shrugged, "If your family member wasn't a Warden then he's probably still alive."

We fell silent for a while and I asked him, "Are you… alright?"

He exploded, rage echoing in each syllable, "I watched all my friends _die_. I watched my mentor _die_! How do you think I am?" When I blanched, he rubbed his hands over his face and apologized, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. This isn't your fault. I just –"

I nodded, interrupting his rambling stream of words, "I understand. What will you do now?"

He shrugged again, a lack of warmth in his eyes, "We're going to try and rally some men and fight the Blight as best we can. Although why I'm telling _you_ this I don't know," he said almost resentfully.

I touched his arm in comfort, "Be safe, Alistair. I… I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you."

It was absolutely irrational. _He_ wasn't my brother. Yet, he acted so similar. I shook my head, the past just beneath the surface of my mind. He stared at me, "You're not… coming onto me, are you? Because –"

I shouted, "No! Maker, no. I just… I knew someone, a long time ago and you remind me of him. I never got to say goodbye and…" I nearly cried, trying to hold in the tears as best as I could, "I'm sorry."

Alistair sighed, "I know what that's like. Look, I probably shouldn't say this but there are _a lot _of Templars here. And the darkspawn are coming. Look after yourself and get out of Lothering. Go to Redcliffe, Denerim, further up north if need be."

I thanked him just as Mother called out for me, "Hales! Are you here?"

She had come out to town to find me, which meant something was happening. Was Carver home? I shouted in her direction, "Coming, Mother!"

When I turned back to Alistair, he was staring at me like he felt sick. His face had lost all its colour, a green pallor covering his weak expression. He asked with hesitation, "What is your name, again?"

I shot him a sad smile, thinking that he was disgusted by me somehow, "Hales. Hales Hawke. Goodbye, Alistair." He couldn't be my brother, I thought as I ran towards Mother, my brother wouldn't look at me like he felt sick.

But for a moment, just a very short moment, I thought he looked at me with recognition and disappointment in his eyes as he mouthed my name to himself. Just for _one_ very short moment. I ran to Mother, putting Alistair away from my mind.

Mother explained as the two of us hurried home, "Carver's home. Well, he banged at the doors and launched himself into the house. He was out of breath and he reeks but he told everyone to pack because apparently, we have to go."

That was hardly unexpected. Everyone was already leaving Lothering. The refugees were only in Lothering to stay temporarily before they made their way further up north. I sprinted home, eager to see Carver. He was home. Safe. Alive. I needed to see him.

The moment I saw him, we stared at each other for a full second. I found myself surveying him from his black hair to the tips of his toes. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Two arms. Two legs. No wounds. I hurled myself into his arms, grateful that he was finally home. He caught me, crushed me to his chest and buried his face into my hair, lips pressing behind my ear. A wave of his familiar scent mixed with stale sweat overwhelmed me but despite his reeking, I felt comforted. Alive… right here. My hands found his sweat-covered neck, my face buried into his sweat-soaked shirt but I didn't care. "Carver…" I murmured and he pulled me away to say quickly, "No time. We need to pack the necessities and get out of here." I nodded and he kissed my forehead. I fled for my room.

I had few possessions really. A few dresses, my leather armour that consisted of a vest that bared my arms, loose pants and a pair of thick boots, a few pieces of jewellery and my staff. I changed quickly into my armour, wore my jewellery and secured the staff to the back of my vest. I pulled out a rough satchel and quickly shoved in my nightclothes, my favourite dress, some bandages and soaps for emergencies, lyrium potions and health poultices. I tied up my hair and stared into the looking glass for a moment. I was leaving home. _Home_. Everything I had ever known was going to be behind me in a few moments time. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready at all.

"Are you ready?" asked Bethany, from the door, her face worried and scared. I nodded, lying to the both of us and steeled myself for the complete unknown.

There was very little time. The darkspawn could be seen in the horizon by the time we had decided to leave. We went up north for a while, striding up towards the mountains before Mother dropped her ability to stay focused, thinking that we were far away enough from darkspawn, "We've lost it all! Everything your father and I built…" she sighed despairingly.

I said urgently, "I know how much Lothering meant to you but we _have _to move."

Mother nodded, looking down at her feet, "Yes, of course."

Bethany glared at Carver, "We should have run sooner, the moment we heard of the Blight. Why did we wait so long?"

Carver threw his hands up in the air, instantly defensive, "Why are you looking at me? I got here as soon as I could!"

I was instantly frustrated. They were siblings again, sniping and arguing. I interrupted with scorn, "Not to interrupt your little blame fest here but the Blight is hardly about to wait while we stand around pointing fingers."

Mother gestured with her hands, "Please. Listen to your sister."

Bethany interrupted, "But where are we going?"

"Away from the darkspawn," answered Carver simply, "Where else?"

"And then where? You can't just wander, aimlessly." Bethany was right.

Mother nodded, "We can go to Kirkwall."

"Kirkwall? Are you sure that's wise?" I asked, incredulous at her suggestion.

Bethany mirrored my expression, "There are a lot of Templars there."

Carver retorted, "There are a lot of Templars here, too."

"I know that," said Mother, shifting from foot to foot, "but we still have family there and an estate."

Bethany sighed, "Then we need to get to Gwaren and take ship."

"If we even survive that long," said Carver, turning his back on us to survey the sun, "I'll be happy just to get out of here." My Mabari, Widge, whined mournfully and I scratched the top of his head. He panted, lolling his tongue out to the side. I shook my head, at least he could be happy in an instant.

I shook my head, "The darkspawn are coming from the south. The Grey Warden I was talking to, he told us to go north. Kirkwall is a great idea in terms of 'going north' but Gwaren? That's further south than Ostagar!"

"It won't matter where we go, Hales," he said in a defeated tone, "The darkspawn are burrowing up from below. They are basically everywhere though the main horde is coming from the south."

"We need to get to Gwaren," insisted Bethany.

Carver stayed silent. Mother looked to me, "You make the decisions. Just make it quickly. No matter what," she glared towards the twins, "you will listen to your sister."

I hated being put in that kind of situation, being put between Bethany and Carver but after I bit off a groan, I said, "Gwaren. Stay close."

Carver's voice held an irritating bite, "Lead on, _sister_."

As I turned towards the east, towards Gwaren, I rammed my shoulder into Carver's and hissed, "Knock it off. I didn't enjoy that any more than you did." His smile was mollified and his hand caressed the small of my back in a quick motion.

We fought our way towards Gwaren, luckily only meeting a few stray hurlocks and such. My weapon had barely been bloodied before we found company. A small army of darkspawn had a couple trapped in a corner. Without thought, I directed fire towards the darkspawn, attracting their attention. Carver lifted his heavy broadsword and sliced through some, darkspawn limbs breaking apart from his effort. When all was over, we saw the couple – a woman with a Templar.

The Templar quickly stood, though he was injured, "Apostate! Keep your distance."

Bethany scoffed, "Well the Maker has a sense of humour. First darkspawn, now a Templar. I thought they all abandoned Lothering."

The Templar recovered his bravado, "The spawn are clear in their intent. The same can never be said of mages." He stumbled forward, "The Order dictates…"

I took a step forward when he did, letting it be known that I did not tolerate threats, not even from an injured man. The woman persuaded, "Wesley… they saved us. The Maker understands."

The man, Wesley, relented, "Of course."

"I am Aveline Vallen and this is my husband, Ser Wesley," she introduced, "we can hate each other when we're safe from the darkspawn."

I told her, "You're the first survivor we've come across. For a while there, I thought we were the only ones to survive the darkspawn."

Carver reminded me gently, "We aren't free of them yet. You didn't see Ostagar. This is not even the start." I made a mental note to ensure I asked him about his experience later.

Aveline turned to Carver, "You were there? Yes, I see it now. Third company under Captain Varrel."

"Then you saw how the entire army was defeated," he replied.

"We fell to betrayal, not the darkspawn. This section of the horde won't be given the same advantage," sneered Aveline.

I turned to Wesley, his wound seemed severe, "How bad is that wound? Would you let me heal it?"

He shook his head, "I think my sword arm is a loss even with healing." He waved me over so I could take a look.

"Hales," said Carver warningly but I shook my head. We were safe. The Templar was honourable, that much I could tell. My fingers prodded at the wound before I began to heal him, small issues of blue mana leaving my fingertips to close his injuries as Aveline told him, "Then you will have mine. As always."

The blood flow stemmed and Wesley tried to smile in thanks. I told him, "At least you aren't bleeding. I'll need more time to really assess the damage but for now, we must move."

Aveline echoed my words, "For now, we move with you. The north is cut off. We barely escaped."

Carver told her, "The south is cut off too. We're essentially trapped."

I shrugged, "We're headed to Gwaren, which is east."

Aveline argued, "South."

I rubbed the back of my neck, "South-east. Follow if this concurs with your plans." Mother rubbed her face tiredly, feeling hopeless and forlorn.

With Wesley in our party, it became very difficult to really move at a fast pace and with Mother, who was unaccustomed to so much vigorous exercise, we ended up having to rest many times. It wasn't exactly a bad thing. It gave me time to scout a little and it also seemed to make defending ourselves an easier task.

At one particular stop, we were near the top of the hill. I looked below to see a small plateau, a small piece of flatland where we could have our next stop. Carver stood behind me and he spoke quietly, though we were far enough from the rest of the group, "Mother knows."

"She knows what?" I asked, a little distracted.

"About us. She was right behind you. She saw how you threw yourself at me," he said with almost laughter in his voice. Trust Carver to be able to laugh and joke despite the situation. I tried to reason weakly, "We heard about Ostagar. We thought you were… It was just relief to see you alive." My mind went back to the image of us, holding one another in the living room and I slapped my forehead, "It didn't help that you kissed me. Twice," I added thinking about the light brushes of lips he had applied behind my ear and to my forehead. Then I sighed, "Maybe it doesn't matter. We've got to survive before she strings us up by our ears and gives us the 'siblings shouldn't kiss each other' speech. Even so," I cast him an indulgent yet admonishing look, "what were you thinking doing something like that in front of Mother?"

He closed his eyes, his face instantly withdrawn, "I was thinking that I nearly died at Ostagar and the first thing I wanted to do was to see you. When you weren't at the house," his fists clenched and he grit his teeth, "I thought… Maker, I didn't think."

I turned to face him and after ensuring that no one was watching us, my hands rested on his chest, caressing him lovingly through his ripped vest. I felt almost relaxed with him beside me. There was something about Carver, I realized, that made me ready for anything. I could die but he was beside me and for one reason or another, that made all the difference. He hummed, closing his eyes and almost managed to smile. "What happened at Ostagar? I was told Loghain pulled out of the fight and left the Wardens to die." I asked him, wanting to know exactly the sequence of events.

He frowned, not giving me much detail at all, "How did you know this? That's not the story they are spreading."

"Two Gray Wardens were in Lothering. I recognized one of them from the camp and he told me what happened," I said neutrally, hoping that he wouldn't ask anymore questions.

Carver nodded, "That's more or less what happened. I didn't think anyone survived though. I was a part of Loghain's army so when he retreated, I snuck away. I ran through the Wilds, back to Lothering but Maker, the darkspawn _tore_ through the Wardens like playthings. I dodged a lot of them, killed a lot of them when I ran home." He closed his eyes and dropped his head down, "It was horrifying. I kept thinking about you and whether I'd make it back. I-"

I interrupted his thoughts, comforting him, "Don't... don't go back there. You're here now. We're here."

He told me, "We don't know that we will survive."

I was honest, "I shouldn't be thinking like this but all I care right now is that we're together. I don't think I could make it without you. Not like this..." I curled my head under the nook of his chin and his arms came around me in reflex. He held me until I heard Aveline's voice echoing closer.

Wesley and Mother were ready and so, we trekked downhill towards the small plateau I saw. There was darkspawn everywhere. I was constantly casting spells. To step forward even a foot required me to fight through twelve inches of darkspawn. Ice. Fire. Spirit bolt. Lightening. My fingertips were an array of ever changing colours. Bethany was beginning to have trouble for she wasn't so strong. Her mana stores were depleting rapidly. We changed tactics. Carver, Aveline and I took the front line, keeping Bethany with Mother and Wesley as a last defensive line.

When we reached the plateau, I thought we could take a break to rest but the ground was shaking, moving, like an earthquake that would rip the ground apart. Dust soared, like a small sandstorm and the rocks trembled. An ogre charged. It came out of nowhere, a huge hulking figure suddenly upon us in a moment. We threw ourselves out of the way. Hurlocks came, flanking the ogre in support and seeing them surround Carver, I cast a cone of cold to keep them frozen so he could dispatch them easily.

I charged towards the ogre, yelling to Bethany, "Stay with Mother!" but she did no such thing. I saw her mumble to herself, saw her charge forward, shooting a light fire spell at the ogre. The ogre turned to face Bethany, his attention locked upon her. My breath caught in my throat. I shouted, "Bethany, no!" but it was already too late. Though I quickly sent bolts of lightening towards the ogre, it had already picked Bethany up like a tiny rag doll and slammed her twice against the ground, before throwing her to one side. I saw splashes of blood cover the dirt and I watched Mother run to Bethany's body but I knew instantly that my sister could not possibly have survived.

I heard her pained cries as she took her last breath and I would have run to her but the ogre would have killed the rest of us and steeling myself, I ordered Widge to keep the hurlocks at bay. I pulled at the mana within me, letting the ball of power pulse and grow within my body. Fire. Angry, orange flames slid from the palms of my hands, from my fingertips, pushing at the ogre, stripping away his flesh and sinew. It roared in pain and charged, blind in its savagery. I rolled out of the way and watched as the ogre continued in its path, unable to change its running angle. I swung my staff powerfully in the air and slammed it into the ground, continual pulses of energy and pure fire destroying my enemies. They would _know_ defeat.

Carver dealt the killing blow, slicing his sword deep into the ogre's chest as it roared for the last time. A splash of blood landed over his face and his expression told me that he too, knew that Bethany could not have survived.

We ran towards her body, limp and battered upon the ground. I heard Mother plead, "Bethany. Wake up. The battle's over. We're fine!"

Aveline stated with little inflection in her voice, "I'm sorry, Mistress. Your daughter is gone." Widge howled mournfully at the loss of Bethany.

Mother denied the truth, "These things will_ not _take Bethany!"

As I knelt beside Bethany's body, I touched her cheek, her face the only part of her that was left undamaged. It was already cool. I murmured, "Bethany risked her life to save us."

For the first time, Mother stared at me with poison in her eyes, "I don't want a hero," she snarled, "I want my daughter! How could you let her charge off like that?" I bowed my head in shame. I should have looked after Bethany. "My poor little girl, my little sweetheart," she wept, sobbing into her hands. My fingers brushed a lock of hair out of my sister's face but Mother pushed it away, a violent snap of her fingers scratching against mine, repeating in her sorrow, "How could you let my little sweetheart charge off like that?"

Carver, who had knelt beside me, touched my knee in comfort and through tears, managed to say, "If we stand here weeping, the darkspawn will take the rest of us, too."

Wesley interrupted with sadness in his voice, "Allow me to commend your daughter's soul to the Maker, Mistress." Holding his fist to his chest, he bowed his head to pray, "Ashes we were and ashes we become. Maker, give this woman a place by your side. Let us find comfort in the peace she has found in eternity." It fell flat. It was flat. My baby sister… As Mother murmured her last goodbyes, I kissed Bethany's forehead and this time, I was not pushed away by Mother.

"Goodbye, sister." I whispered, "I'll miss you."

As we stood, I tried to comfort Mother, "She won't be alone. Father will keep her company."

Mother nodded once and we all stood, needing to continue our journey but we had lingered too long and the horde had gathered around us while we grieved. I readied my staff though I knew it would be pointless to fight. There were too many.

The earth began to shake again and as I looked up, a giant boulder unfurled itself. Layers of something...Wings? They spread out a magnificent royal purple, spines and scales glinting in the sun. A dragon, larger than anything I had ever seen. An archdemon, I thought to myself as it opened its mouth to screech a note that made my mind sing in pain. Spikes adorned the top of its head and along its spine, right down to the tail. It swooped and we threw ourselves to the ground, its gigantic head diving straight towards us yet it breathed fire towards the darkspawn, burning the abominations to shreds. It took a Hurlock into its mouth, bit straight through and let it fall to the ground as it flew into the skies once more, sweeping the remaining darkspawn with its tail, throwing them against rocks. It landed on the ground, making the earth vibrate beneath my feet and surveyed us for a moment, head tilting in comtemplation before it began to glow, a strange and alien amber, a vision of wings furling and unfurling to reveal –

A woman.

A strange woman.

Her hair was pure white, parts of it almost fashioned into horns, a steel crown upon her head. It was her eyes that struck me. That familiar amber colour that Morrigan had. Another Witch of the Wilds. I could smell the power, the mana pulsing from her body, had read enough stories to know what I was facing. A very powerful, a very old Witch. Her voice was old and creaking yet her body was young, "Well, well, what have we here?"

I strode towards her as Wesley fell, his injuries too much for him to continue standing. I saw Aveline help him to the ground and turned my attention back to the Witch. I felt Carver standing behind me, a hand at my elbow. The Witch continued, "It used to be that we never got visitors in the Wilds but now it seems they arrive in hordes."

Lame joke, I thought to myself but I managed a slightly mocking, "Impressive. Where'd you learn to turn into a dragon?" Now was no time to think of Bethany. Put her away from your mind, I ordered myself, think and focus only on what is before you.

She smiled secretively, a powerful and dangerous smile, "Perhaps I _am_ a dragon. If so, count yourself lucky. The smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite," she said. She turned her back to us and looked out to the horizon as she walked away, "If you are trying to flee the darkspawn, you should know that you are heading in the wrong direction."

Carver stepped forward, "So you're just going to leave us here?"

The Witch paused, only her head turning to look at Carver peripherally, "And why not?" She turned back to look at me, her eyes locking with mine with an intensity I couldn't fathom, "I spotted a most curious sight, a mighty ogre vanquished! Who could perform such a feat?" She was referring to me, rather than the group. Odd, I thought, considering I had help from the others. She had eyes for herself yet she chose only to address me. Why? She continued, "But now my curiosity is sated and you are safe. For the moment. Is that not enough?"

I said urgently, "We won't be able to get through the darkspawn on our own."

She moved her hands around her, "They are everywhere," she said in a tone that made a shiver go down my spine, "where is it that you plan to run to, hmm?"

Carver responded, "We're going to Kirkwall, in the Free Marches."

"Aye, Kirkwall," she said, her eyes flickering to Carver only for a moment before returning to me, "That's quite the voyage you plan. So far… simply to flee the darkspawn."

I told her simply, "Our home is gone and we have no where else to go."

"I see," she tilted her head just slightly before speaking again, "Hurtled into the chaos, you fight and the world will shake before you." She began to consider, "Is this fate or chance? I can never decide. " Then she shrugged, "It seems fortune smiles upon the two of us today. It seems that I can help you yet."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "There must be a catch."

She laughed at me, her voice edgy and coarse, "There is always a catch. _Life _is a catch. I suggest you catch it while you can!"

Carver's voice was cautious, "Should we even trust her? We don't even know what she is!"

"I know what she is, a Witch of the Wilds," said Aveline.

The Witch admitted, "Some call me that. Also Flemeth. Asha'bellanar. Does it matter? I offer you this. I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery not far out of your way."

Flemeth… I had heard stories of her. Asha'bellanar, it was a name that roughly translated to 'Woman of Many Years'… An ancient witch of many powers, almost godlike… or was she really just a witch who had taken the same name? Because I was no longer alone but in a group, I asked, "Should we trust her?"

Aveline said, "Wesley is injured. We'll never escape the darkspawn without help."

He told her resolutely, "If you need to, leave me behind." I was beginning to really respect the Templar. He was brave and I could sense his love for Aveline to be true and certain.

"No, I said I would drag you out if I had to and I meant it!" insisted Aveline.

I turned to Flemeth. She was powerful, dangerous and not necessarily my ally but for now, she could save us and whether she was truly the Flemeth of the legends of not, here was my opportunity. I could take it and leap into the unknown not knowing the real risks or die a knowable and predictable death. Her eyes were surveying me. Like she knew what I was thinking. I nodded, "It seems we don't really have a choice." A death by darkspawn or death by something else, something unknowable. I'd take the latter no matter what the risk.

Her voice was sympathetic, "We never do," before instructing whilst handing me a simple wooden bracelet, "There is a clan of Dalish elves not too far from Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks and any debt between us is paid in full." She turned away to look at Wesley, "If I take you, however, there is another matter."

"No! Leave him alone!" said Aveline as she stood, facing Flemeth without fear in her eyes.

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already."

"You lie!" shouted Aveline.

Wesley's weak voice called out, "She's right. I can feel the corruption inside me."

He looked pale, his eyes turning a strange shade of green and veins were erupting from beneath his skin. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"From the darkspawn, all that blood," Wesley gave a whimper, "I knew… ah…when it happened."

Aveline covered her mouth, "How much time before you –"

Flemeth answered the question, "Not long now if I am any judge."

I looked towards the Witch, "There must be something we can do."

She revealed, "The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."

"And they all died at Ostagar," said Aveline, defeated and resigned.

"Not all," supplied Flemeth, "but the last are now beyond your reach."

I whispered to myself, "Alistair…" and Flemeth shot me a secretive and knowing look. Aveline went to her husband, speaking to him. I saw Wesley hand her his dagger and I looked away to give her some privacy. As I strode away, Flemeth was beside me and she said, "Without an end, there can be no peace. It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun…"

She accompanied us to Gwaren. For a moment, I had to admit that I was expecting her to turn into a dragon but it was nothing so fanciful. She merely walked with us and darkspawn simply fell to their knees. Along the way, she said nothing but she was listening, watching and I couldn't help but think that she knew – she knew my thoughts and my secrets. Though I was calm, I felt fear strike my heart. There was something about her, something about the way she looked at me that made me think that something dark was looming over the horizon towards me and I could either flourish or wilt. I shivered visibly at the thought and Carver wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I looked at him and his eyes grounded me, his small nod trying to provide me with safety. I stayed in his arms as we walked. I needed the comfort only he could give me.

It was not until she dropped us off at Gwaren that Flemeth spoke again. She ignored the others and looked right at me and said, "I am curious as to how you will step into the world. Will you fight or will you flee? I sense your fear…"

I stared right into her eyes and said, "To fear is to be human. To fear is to recognize a danger and a threat."

She chuckled, "Brave words yet you fled the darkspawn."

I nodded, "Not all enemies are mine to fight. I will fight when it is my battle."

There was approval in her eyes and when she nodded, she disappeared, not even a hint of dust to show that she had once been before us.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think, where you think the story is going, where you think it should go. Critique and criticize. I accept all constructive thoughts and opinions!

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	5. Secret Advice

**Chapter 5 – Secret Advice**

_Carver_

We went aboard a ship in Gwaren that set off for Kirkwall and all we could do was wait. Mother sat in one corner of the ship, huddled to herself, curled up in grief over the loss of Bethany. I tried to comfort her. Hales tried to comfort her. We were pushed away and Hales, seeing Mother that way, so broken and miserable, it pushed her towards a steep slope of depression.

I understood how Mother felt. A big part of me wanted to lock myself up into a small room and just stay in there. I wasn't sure if I'd end up thinking or crying or just try to empty my mind but I understood.

Bethany. Dead. Gone. It had happened so quickly. One moment, she was still alive, still breathing, still smiling her sunny smile and tilting her head in that innocent doe-eyed expression. Next moment, she was gone.

But I knew that just as Father was gone, there was little I could do about it. I had to move on. I had to. There was nothing else left for me to do. All I could do was be there for my family.

Bethany had been my twin, my sister. She was younger than me by five minutes. That made her my baby sister. She had spent the last few moments of her life defending family but it was as Mother said - I didn't want a hero. I wanted my sister alive. Out of all of us, Hales was the hero. If it hadn't been for her, it was undoubtable that we would have all died there. But because she was the hero, she was the one being blamed. She was cast with the responsibility. I saw the way Mother's eyes turned angry when she looked at Hales, like she would have preferred Hales to die rather than Bethany. I didn't understand – was one truly preferable to the other?

No. If Hales died... the thought, even the image. It was too much. I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the ogre lift Bethany's body up in the air and smash her against the rocks, pools of blood all over the place. I would remember how her bones were broken everywhere and her arms lay in odd angles. I felt sick. What if it had been Hales? No. No! I loved Bethany but Hales... what we had went beyond family, she was my love. If she died... Maker, no.

I found her crying the third night, leaning over the banister of the top deck. I felt like I had seen her cry more often in those few months than I had our entire lives. I knew why. We had lost so much of our family. It was almost too much. I knew Hales hadn't slept either. Her only actions had been to prod Mother to drink or to eat. Aside from that, she grieved endlessly. Quietly, during the day. Brokenly and endlessly, during the night. There were dark rings around her eyes from a lack of rest. She had lost weight and her face seemed gaunt and pale.

She needed someone to understand her grief. She needed someone to understand her burdens. She needed me. I pulled her into my arms and we dropped to the floor of the deck, her fists clutching at my collars, her head in my chest. I carded my fingers through her hair and hushed her, rubbing her back in circles. Her tears were endless, all the grief that she had been holding in, all the sadness she kept a rein on during the day had let loose. I understood. Bethany was gone. All that was left was incomplete. The three of us. Aveline was a new addition to the 'family' but it wasn't the same. At some point in the long night, Hales' fingers slackened and her head slid down to my stomach. She had exhausted herself, too drained from her experiences and had fallen asleep. Leaning against the wall of the ship, I held her to me and closed my eyes, finally finding my own peace with her in my arms.

When morning came, Aveline found us and shook us awake. Seeing Hales' swollen and red-rimmed eyes, she said nothing about our compromising position. She clapped a light hand on her back and said, "Come on. You need to eat. Bethany won't come back to life just because you starve yourself."

Hales ate but I knew she didn't taste it. She kept herself going if only to prod Mother into eating or drinking. More and more, Hales became depressed and to make up for it, she ended up all the more aggressive. In the next few days, she was like anger reborn. She told Mother harshly, "Starving yourself won't bring Bethany back. It won't get you to Kirkwall and need I remind you that whilst you lost a daughter, you still have a son to look after!"

Her words snapped Mother out of her sadness. She grieved but it was no longer nonsensical. I think part of it was also the way Hales never included herself. It was like she was just someone we knew, rather than a part of the family. When she spoke, she pretended to be an outsider and Mother started to realize that she was not alone in her grief. She began to see what her lack of control was doing to her daughter.

When one of the other passengers was rude to Mother, Hales raged. She went ballistic, her words cutting and cruel, her screams could be heard from one end of the ship to the other. Aveline stopped me from interfering, a strong hand on my shoulder, "She needs this. If you stop her, you're just stopping her from healing. Sadness, anger, rage, acceptance. It's a process. If she's hurtful to you, don't hate her for it. Don't even think about it. She needs this."

I yanked my arm out of her grip, "I'm not a child! I know what she needs."

Yet, when Hales took her anger out on me, it did hurt. She yelled at me, "We're the problem! We were so busy looking out for each other, we forgot Bethany! I forgot Bethany! I was too busy looking at you! Protecting you! I saw those darkspawn surround you and I forgot I even had a sister! She's the youngest out of all of us! I should have been protecting her. We can't keep doing this! We'll end up killing everyone!"

Her comments stung and I lashed out, unable to stop myself despite Aveline's words, "Oh yes!" I said, sarcastic and bitter, "Big, bad Hales takes all the credit and the blame. You told her to stay with Mother. Could you have stopped her from charging when you were fifty feet away? Stop being a fucking hero! It was either her, or me or you."

Her next words were defeated, "Then it should have been me… I'm the oldest, aren't I?"

I threw my hands up in the air and sneered, "Sometimes, you really disgust me."

Her laugh was self-deprecating, "Who _don't_ I disgust these days?"

I pushed her against the banister of the ship, her back bending out towards the ocean and stared into her eyes. There was so much self-loathing in her eyes, so much sadness. I didn't know what drove her guilt but I said with conviction, "There was nothing we could have done. Flemeth said it herself, someone vanquished a mighty ogre. She expected us to die. Is that what you want? All of us to die? This is as much your failure as it is mine as it is Bethany's for just not knowing any better. You might be the oldest but it is only by a year."

"And two weeks," she tried to protest, her eyes helpless as she tried to fight the truth.

I leaned in and kissed her lightly. Just a single, soft brush and then her eyes changed, no more energy left in her to fight. She became slack in my arms and I saw acceptance slowly filter into her eyes. I pulled her up and she leaned into me. Here was the acceptance that Aveline mentioned. She would be healing now, I thought. With her head upon my shoulder, we stood together, watching the darkness of the horizon slowly give way to light. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and her arm slid around my hips. I pressed my lips to her brow in affection and whispered in her hair, "At least we got away from the darkspawn, right?"

She managed a small nod, "I suppose, we should be grateful for small mercies."

The sound of a clearing throat made us shift away from one another. Mother. I felt my gut clench, felt the instant withdrawing from Hales as she murmured her greeting, "Good morning, Mother."

Mother nodded, her expression soft as she gazed at her other daughter, "You look exhausted. You should go below and get some rest. We arrive in Kirkwall in the morning."

Hales nodded, glanced at me for a moment before disappearing downstairs. I looked at Mother and she looked at me. Then she sighed and I knew that she had seen enough to know what was happening. I said in a stoic tone, "I know what I'm doing, Mother."

With her face in her hands, she asked me, "Do you, Carver?"

"I do and please Mother, for the sake of the Maker, do not blame Hales anymore," I pleaded.

She denied my claims, "I don't blame her for anything!"

"I might be stupid," I told her, "but I'm not yet thick. Whether you actually want Hales to die in Bethany's stead I don't know but true or not, she's got enough pressure on her back without thinking her own Mother hates her."

Mother shook her head, "I don't… I know it seemed that way but… Bethany…"

I shrugged awkwardly, "I know. All I'm asking is that you try," I said. "As for what you saw, I know what I'm doing."

"What I saw was an image of your Father and myself but in my own children. I saw my son wrap his arms around my daughter, kiss her brow and murmur sweet nothings in her ear. You couldn't possibly know what you are doing." She crossed her arms over her chest, staring me down.

I managed to stifle a snarl and said to convince her, "I do know what I'm doing but if it makes you feel any better, Hales would disagree." I stormed downstairs to rest, lying down upon the musty and damp wood, staring at the outlines of Hales' body.

Kirkwall was a city already filled with Ferelden refugees. The Guardsman was rude and called us "Ferelden refuse". There was clear disdain in his voice and by the sound of it, Kirkwall was pretty hostile towards mages. I wasn't particularly surprised. As the man said, "Magic is to serve man not rule him and mages are better locked up where they don't hurt anyone." Hales asked to speak with a superior and she was directed to the upstairs section of the Gallows. She murmured to me quietly, "I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that Bethany isn't here." Inwardly, I had to concur.

We went through the process of talking to the superiors and whether it was by luck and by chance or Hales' helpful nature in dispatching a few unreasonable Fereldens, we managed to convince Captain Ewald to find Gamlen for us but his words made every hope we had sink into the Void, "Gamlen? I know that name but the Gamlen I know is a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together." Still, we realized that if we could find Gamlen, our chances of survival would increase. So began the waiting game in which Mother was quietly praying underneath her breath, Aveline sat around, I leaned against a wall and Hales paced. That was day one. By day three, things changed. Aveline paced, I sat around, Hales leaned against a wall and well, Mother was still praying.

Aveline complained, "It's been _three _days! This waiting has to stop."

Privately, I thought that her words were pointless. If we weren't waiting for Gamlen, we were waiting for a ship to take us back to Ferelden. Mother replied, "I'm sure it won't be much longer. Gamlen must still be looking for us."

Aveline asked with insistence, "And if he's not?"

Mother didn't need to answer. Hales pointed towards a lone man, walking towards us, "Wait. I think someone's coming" but I was certain that her interruption was more due to wanting to stem the argument than actually thinking that Gamlen was coming. It wasn't like we knew what he looked like. Letters didn't suddenly give people images. Luckily however, it really was Gamlen.

"Leandra!" he cried out and as he strode towards Mother, he added, "Damn girl, the years haven't been kind to you."

"Gamlen," said Mother, her tone hopeful as she hugged the man.

He was… ugly. He looked like a rat. Yeah, he had Mother's grey hair and her eyes but he just… didn't resemble a nobleman at all. His clothes were peasant-like. His next words didn't help, "Let me say upfront, I wasn't expecting this. The Blight, your husband… dead. I figured you'd pretty much be Ferelden for life."

Mother didn't seem to understand what he was saying, or rather, what he wasn't saying, "Oh Gamlen, we came too late. Our darling Bethany didn't make it, Andraste guide her." She looked at Hales when she spoke, her eyes soft but Hales turned away, the guilt still churning in her mind as well as on her face.

"Maker save me," said Gamlen, evidently distraught by the news, "Leandra, don't drop this on me here. I don't even know if I can help you all get in."

Hales interrupted, "I'm more concerned about Mother. Can you get _her_ in, at least?"

"No!" said Mother, her voice shocked as she realized the gravity of what Hales was implying – that she'd go back to Ferelden if necessary, "We stay together."

Gamlen shrugged, "I was hoping to grease some palms but the Knight-Commander has been cracking down… we're going to need more grease." To me, it didn't sound like he had any more.

"But… but what about the estate?" stuttered Mother, "Surely Father left something when he died."

"Right… about that," teetered Gamlen from foot to foot, "The estate is… gone. To settle a debt. I've been meaning to write you."

"Then there's no hope," sighed out Mother, her head bowed.

"Not quite," our uncle interrupted, "I know some people who might help… if you're not too delicate about the company you keep."

Hales shook her head, bitterness echoing in her voice, "We don't have any choice, do we? I need to get my – I need to get everyone into Kirkwall." I narrowed my eyes at her. She couldn't even bring herself to say 'family' and I knew that whatever turmoil she was going through – it was only the beginning. Whatever acceptance I thought she had found was apparently not the case.

"I talked to my contacts and I found some people who might be willing to pay your way into the city," Gamlen hurried to explain before looking embarrassed, "The catch is you and your brother would have to work off the debt… for a year."

"A year?" asked Mother, shocked by the length of time. I blanched as well. What kind of work were we expected to do?

Gamlen frowned, "It was the best that I could do. Trust me when I say a bunch of refugees won't get a better option anywhere else." We could have gotten a better option if we still had the estate, I thought resentfully.

I saw the wheels turning in Hales' mind, watched her eyes go glassy for a second before she snapped her jaw together with an audible click and said, "I'm sure we'll be free and clear before we know it."

Uncle smiled at that, "I've convinced them to come meet you personally here. Meeran heads up the mercenary company, The Red Iron. They are looking for recruits. Athenril…" he said with a slight sneer, "I guess you might call her a smuggler. Either one of them can help them. Find them in the courtyard and convince them you're worth the trouble."

Hales looked at me, questions in her eyes, "What do you think about this, Carver?" I could hear it in her voice, in the gentility of her tone that she was very worried.

To keep up with appearances, I shrugged obviously, "What can I say? Better here than nowhere," and then gave her a tight and pointed nod. She understood my meaning that we should go for it. She also seemed to be leaning towards the smuggling job, for she asked, "How dangerous is this smuggler's work?"

"Well, it won't be pretty working for her. She's a small fish compared to the other thieves' guilds around here but she's tough, she's fair and she doesn't deal with slaves or flesh," sneered Gamlen.

Hales gestured with her hands, "Very well. Let's find them and see what they have to say."

"Oh Gamlen, I don't know about this," said Mother nervously. She didn't like the idea of dealing with criminals.

"It's a lot of coin, Leandra," he explained, "Don't expect our name to carry the weight it used to."

"And what of me?" asked Aveline, "I will not allow others to incur debts on my behalf."

Gamlen chuckled, "Can't see that it makes a difference. You look like a lady who can pull her own weight."

Mother offered, "Then you'll come with us."

"I…" she hesitated, "have no real option. Thank you."

We went towards an elven woman with red hair. Athenril rubbed me the wrong way. She might have been honourable, maybe, as honourable as a criminal could be but her expression was just... slimy. There was nothing wrong with her face. She was pretty but there was something about her that I didn't like. Hales approached her, "Are you Athenril?" she asked, her voice prim and formal.

"You must be Gamlen's niece," she replied, her voice was echoing of worldly charms. "Interesting… I don't know what he told you about us but he told us a lot about you."

That made me nervous, "How much, exactly?" I questioned.

"Enough to pique our interest. Provided you can justify your uncle's confidence," she replied.

Hales nodded, "I'd like to know more about what I'd be doing for you."

"Fair enough," Athenril smirked, "I can be honest. We don't compete with the thieves' guilds but we keep our fingers in a lot of pots. That said, we're not killers or slavers. Anything short of that, however, is fair game."

Aveline interrupted, frowning to herself, "Do what you want but this sounds fishy to me."

I told her, "Begging and picking what you want never went hand in hand."

Hales questioned some more, "I hear getting us into the city isn't cheap."

"If you're as good as your uncle claims, you'll be worth it. After all, it isn't everyday we're offered an apostate's services."

Hales pursed her lips, "I hadn't realized Gamlen told you that much."

The elf chuckled, making twirling hand motions, "The Templars in Kirkwall like to think that they have mages properly leashed but when has that ever been true?" She chuckled, "We can keep them from noticing you whilst you are with us. Wouldn't be the first time."

Hales told Athenril, "Give us a moment."

As we strolled further into the courtyard, the three of us discussed options. Hales offered, "I know smuggling sounds like dirty work but I really don't want anything to do with slaves and killing. We all know what mercenaries do and right now, I don't think I can stomach it. Maybe in a year? I don't know but _not right now_."

I shrugged, "I don't care one way or another." Hales couldn't stomach the blood. The image of Bethany's body flashed in my mind and my gut rolled. No, I wasn't sure I could either.

Aveline looked between me and then back to Hales. She shrugged too, "I don't like it but Carver's right. Beggars can't be choosers and if you can't stomach the blood right now then maybe we should stick to the smuggling." She clapped Hales' shoulder, "Whatever you decide is fine."

"Tell me what you need done," Hales said to Athenril in an even but firm tone.

"There's a merchant named Cavril, a friend of the Templars. They've let him set up shop here. We've supplied him with goods for a piece of the take but now he won't pay up. We can't go near him without him screaming for the guard but _you _can," she eyed Hales in an almost seductive way, "Get the money from him and you're in."

Hales strode off without a word. When we found Cavril, he turned out to be a dick out to exploit Ferelden refugees. We heard a woman beg, "Please. You know that if the city were open to us I could get three times that price!" He turned away from her, signalling his guard to shove her from the shop. I saw Hales' eyes narrow dangerously and her lips curl into a sneer. Her words were cold and simple, "I believe you owe your business partner something."

Cavril blanched, "Oh. I see."

His guard asked dumbly, "Should I go tell the guards?"

"Not just yet. I want to hear this." Cavril looked back to her, "Athenril sent you to collect, did she? Too cowardly to do it herself?"

Without even turning her head, Hales invited Aveline, "Care to step in here?"

"Only because this _toad_ deserves it," she replied as she lifted her dagger into the air and aimed it at Cavril's neck, "You have a choice," she said calmly to Cavril, "Pay or I beat it out of you. And your men." The man paled, told us to take what was in his chest and left, tail between his legs. I chuckled at the sight.

Hales took the money and went back to the smuggler, throwing the coin pouch at Athenril with a cool, "Here you go. As requested."

Athenril caught it deftly, smiling to herself, "Will you look at that?" she asked rhetorically, "Tell your uncle we'll make the arrangements. Welcome aboard," she winked at Hales.

As we went back to Gamlen, Aveline told her, "She's attracted to you."

Hales barely smiled, "The feeling isn't mutual," but the comment certainly pleased me. When we told Mother and Gamlen of the news, he went to speak with Athenril and make the final arrangements. The feeling of nervousness drifted away and I said, "So this is it. We did it. We're here to stay. At least for a while."

Hales' reply sent a strange chill down my spine, "For now."

I shared a worried look with Aveline and then with Mother. There was a strange sense of foreboding we could all feel coming off the girl in waves. She was changing.

We were given a week to settle into Kirkwall and the first thing we did was go to the Dalish clans to deliver the amulet. The bad news was that the trek was long, dangerous and full of crazy creatures out to attack us. For example, skeletons rose from the ground and began attacking us like people. Spiders the size of huge boulders jumped from the ceilings of the caves and spat out sticky white web, paralysing us temporarily. The good news was we made a friend, Merrill, a young elf girl that had been exiled by her clan. She was also an apostate and she helped us out of a lot of tight corners. The bad news was she was a blood mage and couldn't tell the difference between a spirit of the Fade and a demon. As she said, "Demons are just spirits, like Honour or Joy. It's not their fault they are what they are." Aveline looked away awkwardly, my eyes bugged out at her ignorance and Hales smacked her forehead, knowing the risks of spirits and demons full well. I decided to take two steps back in case she thought being an abomination was a good idea. On the plus-side, the trip gave us a lot of extra coin and lots of other little knick knacks that we could sell for _even more_ coin. So overall, a pretty worthwhile trip, I concluded.

At the top of Sundermount, Merrill conducted some ritual and Flemeth magically appeared. I have to admit that I wasn't paying much attention to the ritual until Flemeth was suddenly in my sights. I felt only rich irritation. She was _inside_ the freaking amulet! I rolled my eyes, thinking to myself that she could have delivered the thing herself. When the Witch addressed us, I felt something slimy come over me. There was something about her that just… was so wrong.

"Ah… and here we all are," she said, her voice coarse and unfeminine. What kind of woman had that kind of voice anyway?

Merrill did some strange curtsy, greeting Flemeth like a goddess called 'Asha'bellanar'. She sure as heck didn't look like one, I thought to myself.

"One of the people… I see," she said, staring at Merrill with her amber bird eyes, "So young and bright… do you know what I am, beyond that title?"

"I know only a little," Merrill replied.

"Then stand. The people bend too easily," Flemeth said, her eyes returning to Hales. She was looking at her with curiosity and something more, like she was reading Hales, like she knew of her future. She addressed Hales, "So refreshing… to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket."

"I agreed to deliver the amulet though you could have told me you were inside it," Hales replied coolly.

"Just a piece, a small piece," Flemeth said in hushed tones, "but it was all I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable occur and if I know my Morrigan, then it already has."

Hales frowned, recognition in her eyes, "Morrigan? Your Morrigan? She is your daughter?"

Flemeth tilted her head, evidently not caring for the term, "She is a girl who thinks she knows what is what better than I, or anyone. And why not? I raised her to be as she is, I cannot expect her to be less."

"I'm not sure whether she is your daughter or your enemy."

A cold shiver went down my spine when an almost vile but secretive smile crossed Flemeth's lips, "Neither is she."

I interrupted, "You know Morrigan, Hales?"

Her eyes darted to me as she replied, "I met her. Briefly. She was with Alistair, the Grey Warden I mentioned."

Flemeth's eyes were trained on Hales, her tone almost mocking, "Yes, I met him briefly too. I found the lad a tad simple but I suppose, whether his life will be so remains to be seen."

She retorted, "Simplicity need not be a flaw."

Her freaky, amber eyes were on me, staring at me with significance as she replied to Hales, "You are quick to defend him child."

Hales stared out over the horizon, "He is a man. A good one. That is enough."

I thought I heard sympathy in the Witch's voice when she said, "He will do what he must. He may even survive to tell the tale."

There was a gasp of relief from Hales and Flemeth laughed, like she was sharing a private joke. I resented not knowing what was going on. Hesitantly, like she didn't really want to know, Hales asked, "You have plans, I take it?"

Flemeth's voice dropped mysteriously, "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We each have much to do. Before I go, a word of advice." She walked to the edge of the cliff, her arms spread out, "We stand upon the precipice of change, the world fears the inevitable drop into the abyss. Watch for that moment and when it comes," she turned intense eyes back upon Hales, "do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

Hales joked but her eyes were serious, "I'll work on my proverbial dragon wings," which caused Flemeth to smirk in amusement.

She looked to Merrill, "As for you, child. Step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

Merrill bowed, "Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar."

Flemeth looked back to Hales, "The time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks… and my sympathy." She turned away, transformed herself into that ugly dragon, large as a mountain and flew off, a shrieking call as a final goodbye. I winced at the sound, it echoed into pain; pins and needles in my brain.

The trek down to Kirkwall was silent. Merrill was nervously anticipating her move into the alienage, Aveline had nothing interesting to say and as for Hales and I, we were caught up in our own thoughts. Flemeth's comments meant something and they were directed at Hales specifically rather than all of us. What did she mean? Hales knew and no matter what she promised, I was certain she was keeping things from me. She had to be. Who was Alistair to her? If he was just a Grey Warden, why did she look so relieved? Was he an old lover? An old friend? I traced back her group of friends from Lothering but remembered nothing about an Alistair.

More importantly, what darkness was to be expected?

What was going to happen to Hales?

To us?

* * *

><p>AN: I know that I've stuck pretty closely to the game so far but this does eventually change. So bear with me! Let me know what you think! Please R&R!

It's alright to criticize my writing and any opinions up to and including how often I update is completely accepted!

Love, Ann


	6. Secret Year

**Chapter 6 – Secret Year**

_Carver_

During that first week, Hales ensured that Mother had settled into Gamlen's home and she sold what she could to help out. Her jewellery, the knick-knacks that we had found and anything that gave Mother a little more coin to live upon. After that, she took Widge and left home, claiming that Athenril needed her pretty much constantly. It was a lie. Athenril hadn't requested her presence for work reasons. She just wanted Hales close by because she wanted to seduce her.

Mother didn't know all this. She didn't understand and ended up taking out her frustrations upon Gamlen. She yelled at him as Hales packed, "This is _your _fault. You sold my children into servitude! That's why she has to go live in some dirty smuggler hideout!" I couldn't believe how naive she was being. Hales wanted time away from family. She wanted to be alone, to deal with everything that had happened. Even _I_ knew that. I wasn't sure what Mother was thinking.

I tried to stop her as Hales packed a few items into the satchel, striding out the house and into the night without a backward glance. I slammed the house door shut and ran after her, pulling at her arm to turn her around. I asked her, "Where are you going? Home is here." Widge huffed impatiently at having to pause, wanting to run free. He had been lethargic ever since we got to Kirkwall. He wanted open spaces and Kirkwall was all city.

She shook her head, "I'm living with Athenril's lot. She offered me a room when I told her that Gamlen's house would be a tight squeeze."

I gripped her shoulders, trying to shake her awake, "You do realize she's doing that to get into your pants, right?"

Hales laughed, cold and unconcerned, "I told her it wouldn't happen. She said she wanted the opportunity to try. I don't mind that. I just have to keep telling her 'no'. Athenril isn't a rapist."

I clenched my jaw, glaring out into the night. She tapped my chin with a finger and consoled, "I'm just living elsewhere. I'll be around to get mail and visit."

"Visit," I spat out with venom, "That means you won't be around often at all."

She shrugged, "Look after Mother for me, won't you?"

I asked her after a sigh, "Why are you doing this?"

She looked around surreptitiously before answering, "We're new in town. The neighbours are curious. What if they find out about me being an apostate? Not a very good idea. Living with Athenril means protection, for me and the family."

She answered my question but she knew the answer she gave wasn't to the question I was really asking. I hated her evasions. With her face in my hands, I grazed her ears with my thumbs. "What about us?" I asked. I wanted her with me. I needed her with me.

Her eyes turned sad and my heart sank. "There is no us," she whispered and each word was like a piece of icy metal piercing me through. I leaned in, intending to kiss her answers away but she placed a finger at my lips to stop me, "We can't, Carver. What will people say when they find out?"

I told her, "We can lie. Tell them you're my wife, not my sister. You don't look like the rest of us." We had an opportunity here. One where we could start completely fresh. We would be living in the same room, we could share our troubles, our problems and we could be together! This was simple. Easy. Why couldn't she see it that way?

She stroked the side of my face with cool fingertips, "Gamlen would know. What would he say to Mother? She's suffered enough, hasn't she? And you're only seventeen, eighteen in a few months. You shouldn't be married. You should be sowing your wild oats and all that." Hales pecked my cheek, "We can't do this. We can never do this. If we hope to make a home in Kirkwall, to find a place in Kirkwall or to be invisible in Kirkwall because I am an apostate, we just can't do this. We would attract too much attention, cause too many problems. We can't."

I let her go because I had no choice. She left with her Mabari without a backward glance. I stared up into the sky, clouded over from Kirkwall's pollution and felt defeated, insignificant and tiny. Perhaps that was exactly what I was. Tiny. An ant. I felt like the Maker was making a joke out of my life. I was stuck at home, looking after an old woman, without a lover beside me. I hated it. This wasn't the life I wanted. I didn't want to spend my days wheedling Mother to eat, to stop her from worrying about Hales. I wanted to _do _something. Every day seemed like a morose, never ending routine. I'd get up, eat whatever gruel Gamlen had made for breakfast, force Mother to eat, put up with her incessant complaining about how life _used_ to be before leaving for the smuggler's hideout. I'd work, help steal and smuggle, spend a day listening to my coworkers gossip before going home to persuade Mother into eating some dinner. I'd stay with her until late, watch her as she stared into the fire like a broken woman before telling her to go to bed. I'd help her into bed, close the door behind her and listen to her cry for a few moments before I went to bed, hating myself and hating the next day for it would surely be a repeat of the same routine.

Hales was a stranger that whole year. The family saw her few and far between. I saw her shadow when she picked up the mail at home, or maybe a sliver of her white shirt. She was in and out. She never stayed. She never asked questions. She barely spoke to Mother. She _never_ spoke to me. She didn't even check to make sure we were alright. I saw her occasionally at the smuggler's hideout but she never had time to talk. Just a smile and once, she squeezed my hand in passing. That was as much communication as I got.

When Mother complained about her absence in our lives, I took the opportunity to speak to her about what Flemeth had said to Hales but she didn't have any answers. She had no idea who Alistair was either, "I'm sorry, dear. The name 'Alistair' doesn't mean very much to me. I know Malcolm suspected that Hales had a lover back in Lothering for a while before the two of you…" she trailed off uncomfortably and I squirmed in my seat, "but she never mentioned him and we never caught her with any boy so I wouldn't know. I'm sorry."

I told her, "Just so you know, she and I aren't… we stopped that night she moved out."

Mother looked at me, "What? Why?" She sounded so shocked and I stared at her, "Didn't you want that?"

She mumbled something under her breath but I wasn't sure what she said. There were secrets here. That, I knew but what, I didn't know. I wanted to ask but I wasn't even sure what to ask! 'What is she hiding?' didn't seem like a good idea. What if Mother didn't know? Eventually, I just told her, "She just said it wasn't right. She didn't want to burden the family."

I found out eventually that the above reason was only half of the truth. The information I got about Hales was second-hand and from Athenril, no less. I asked her, almost three months later, when I bumped into her at the hideout, "How is Hales?"

Athenril was honest, "She's probably been better, I imagine but she's alright."

She waved me into her office and we spent a while there so she could explain the situation to me. Her office was gaudy, every inch covered by the blatant displays of trophies and tokens she had stolen over the years. I found it irritating but tried to focus upon the topic. She asked, "You know the saying 'friends are the Maker's reward for relatives'? Let's just say she needs that friend right about now."

I frowned, instantly misunderstanding the implication, "Are the two of you…." I gestured significantly and she shook her head, "No, and it wasn't for a lack of trying either but she just needs a friend. Friendship is all that is offered right now."

She surveyed me, her red hair shaking as she tilted her head to the side, "She told me everything. About your Father dying. About the escape from your hometown. About Bethany... she even mentioned her _unique_ relationship with you." She shook her head with laughter as I gaped, waving her hands to stem any words I could say, "I understood. I'm not about to judge her. Or you, for it. Maybe that's why she told me. She knew I wouldn't care."

I shook my head, disliking the implication that Hales couldn't come to me, "She could have come to me. I wouldn't judge her."

Athenril grimaced, "Hawke has... a lot of secrets. I didn't think it was possible to have so many."

"What secrets?" I asked.

She shrugged, "None that I can share. The point is though, she's got scars but she's healing." Athenril poured herself a drink and passed me one. I sculled it down quickly, the alcohol burning swiftly down my throat. Whiskey. Disgusting. I coughed, wanting to push about the secrets but no words came out of my mouth aside from choking and gagging noises.

Athenril ignored my reactions and continued to explain, "For a while there, she was really dead set on hating herself for Bethany's death."

"It wasn't even her fault!" I told her, "She knows that."

"It's easy for us to say it but difficult for her to believe it. And then there's _your_ Mother," she said with a sad shake of her head, "She knew _your_ Mother would never accept the relationship between she and you. She knew it would cause problems for everyone involved. Did you know that she stayed to listen to the conversation the two of you had aboard the ship?"

I frowned, "Wait. What?"

Athenril sat upon the corner of her table, one hip leaning against the flat surface, "She heard how _your _Mother seemed disapproving of your relationship. Hearing that, it was breaking point."

"What do you mean?" I asked her, not exactly understanding. I also hated the way she accented 'your' like Hales and I didn't share the same mother. What was going on?

"In her exact words, 'I've broken up the family enough. Let's move on to something else, shall we?' She's dead set on blaming herself for everything and she doesn't know how to face the family."

When I heard that, my jaw fell open. The little martyr, I thought to myself. The little freak. I exclaimed loudly, "Who is she to paint herself a fucking martyr?"

Athenril shrugged, "Hawke is a good person. She cares and she's got a good heart. Good people just do things like that, I guess. It's stupid and I don't understand it but that's how it goes. I can't exactly complain about it. All of her emotional stuff; it drives her and she's really something. She's a great criminal. A great smuggler."

I nodded, I had heard plenty from some of my colleagues. She was really building a name for herself in the criminal underworld. I had heard about the exploits. Shoes with hollow heels, filled with lyrium. Armour with pockets on the insides to smuggle jewellery and valuable artefacts. She had made Athenril a lot of money and our smuggling ring was fast becoming the largest in Kirkwall. As a result, the wages the two of us received increased from insubstantial to more than enough to feed the family and then have some left over for Mother to save up. Everyone and anyone with half a brain knew who 'Hawke' was, as she was now called and by association, everyone knew me as well. I was 'Hawke's Brother'. I detested that label. I wanted to do something for myself, something great but my ideas were never approved.

All in all, Hales' presence in our lives was minimal. Her presence was an ever growing pouch of coins in my pigeon hole when wages were due. At first, I tried to put it back into her pigeon hole but I'd just find it in mine the following day with a note pinned to it. 'Just take it', she would write. She never came home, not for dinner, not even for her own birthday. We thought she would. Mother had actually gotten up and cooked that day, thinking that surely, Hales would be home on her own birthday but she never showed for dinner. We had waited and waited and waited until the food was cold, until Mother's eyes had brimmed over with tears and she left for her bedroom without eating. Hales never showed.

Two weeks later, on my birthday, there were no celebrations either but she left a sizable chocolate cake in my pigeon hole. She had a note pinned to the small basket, 'Happy Birthday, Carver' but I had thrown the note away. I would have been happy without the cake. I would have been happy if she had come to see me, to physically say the words to me. That would have made me happy. That would have been actually meaningful.

She was a stranger.

_Hales_

Athenril had been very kind to me. Though she had originally planned on seducing me which was why she offered me a room at the hideout at no extra cost, she actually became a really good friend after giving up on the seduction portion of her plans. She actually understood that lover-like relationships weren't something I could accept and we became friends, very close friends. I told her all of my secrets. It was nice to be able to share that kind of burden.

I told her about my past, about how I was adopted and how that life still haunted me with memories that I could barely understand. I didn't tell her everything and certainly, not about how I had been abandoned or how much I missed Alistair but she knew that I wasn't actually a Hawke. I told her about how Father died, how Bethany died and how I just didn't have enough time to save her. I confessed that I had been looking at Carver at the time, that I had been ensuring that he was protected and I had momentarily forgotten about Bethany. That led on to my relationship with Carver and though it was sick, Athenril was surprisingly open-minded. She told me, "You know, incest isn't exactly uncommon. No one talks about it and the Kirkwaller nobles would freak out about it but it isn't actually uncommon. You love him. I get it. And it isn't even like the two of you are actually related."

I had retorted, "He doesn't know that though."

She had shrugged uncaringly, "He must remember something! He was already four when you were adopted!"

I shook my head, "If he does remember something, he's never mentioned it. Considering this is Carver, he would have rubbed it in my face by now."

I told her about Mother's reaction, how she had been speaking to Carver on board the ship and had indicated her disapproval and reprimand over the relationship he and I shared. I told her, "She doesn't like it. She doesn't want it. Whether or not I'm adopted doesn't seem to mean much to her. He and I grew up together and there's something wrong with our relationship."

Athenril had frowned at that, "But she knows you're adopted. She knows it isn't _actually_ incestuous. I don't understand why she didn't tell him about your true heritage."

"Evidently, she feels that Carver would never quit if she mentioned it. And let's face it, he wouldn't. He isn't that type of person who can let things like that go. She doesn't approve. Of course she isn't about to say anything," I told her.

Athenril had teased, "Deep down, it isn't like you really _want_ him to quit."

I laughed, feeling better than I had in a long time, "No, I don't. Now and again, his Mabari-like focus in getting what he wants is entirely too appealing but what I want and what is required of me are two very different things."

"Required of you? There's nothing required of you," she argued, "He will find out, one day and then what? You might as well spare the disaster and just tell him. Confront him and your Mother about it."

"That wouldn't achieve anything aside from more family drama. I've broken up the family enough. Let's move on to something else, shall we? She's my Mother. I can't do that to her." I sighed to myself, "There are a lot of things I should have done differently. I should have asked Father what was wrong with him. I should have saved Bethany. I just don't know how to face her. If Carver found out that I was adopted... what would he say to Mother? What _wouldn't_ he say to Mother?"

Athenril insisted, "He will find out, sooner or later."

I countered, "No, he won't. I'm not about to tell him and neither is Mother. If she wanted to tell him, she would have done so by now. She's had _ages_ to do so."

She shook her head at me, "You can't keep this from him forever."

"Watch me."

Her eyes watched me with sympathy and she asked, "Don't you miss him? Don't you want to see him?"

I nodded, fiddling with the necklace that as promised, I never took off. It was a habit that I picked up over the year. "I miss him, so much." I showed her my necklace, "he gave this to me. I turned eighteen and I visited him at the Ostagar camp after Father died. He told me that he found it in the Wilds and thought of me when he saw it. Every time I look at the amulet, I think of him and his beautiful blue eyes."

The pain had indeed been intense and the first week away had been the worst but I learned to live with the ache, with the constant missing him, with the need to touch him or see him. As such, I barely spoke to him and tried not to go home during the times I knew he would be there. Our connection consisted of me leaving my wages in his pigeon hole at work. I was being well fed. I didn't need the money. I knew he was upset with me, upset that I never spent time with him, upset that I never reached out to him. When it was his birthday, I saw him rip the note I gave him to pieces. I heard the angry mutterings under his breath, heard him curse me for not being home, for not wishing him a happy birthday to his face. He just didn't understand. It was so hard to be without him. Every time I saw him, I wanted to throw myself into his arms, to hear him whisper sweet things in my ear. But what about our family? It truly was broken up enough. Would I make Carver suffer through the disapproval of our Mother? Would I make Mother feel unhappy because her adopted daughter was soiling her only son?

I still didn't know how to face Mother though the pain eventually did go away. She didn't seem to hate me as much through the few times I saw her during the year. She seemed more irritated that I was constantly away from home than angry that I was alive instead of Bethany. She never pushed me to come home. I thought that maybe she understood my need to be alone, to organize my own thoughts and feelings. Mother was hardly naive. The distance between us lessened, emotionally speaking, despite the physical absences of each other. I just thought that after everything, I owed all of my familial happiness to her and Father. They didn't have to adopt me and I would forever be grateful to them. It didn't seem _right_ to do something against her wishes. So, with my conscience eased that Carver would always be Mother's son rather than my lover, it became easier to let go of the past, of the hurt and pain that came from the loss of loved ones.

In the end, Father _had_ died smiling. I could have asked him if something was wrong, should have asked but when it came down to it, Father knew it was his time to go. Would his telling me that he was ready to die make his passing any less painful? Would it really stop him from passing on? And if it did, was that a wise choice? Didn't a man have a right to choose when to die rather than have his life prolonged until he became miserable? I could never be sure but the past was what it was and there was little that could be done about it now.

As for Bethany, I missed her dearly. I missed her presence, missed her smiles, missed her ability to cool everyone's tempers. I even missed the way she talked in her sleep but she was gone and once again, there was little that I could do. Yes, it was my fault. Yes, if I had just paid more attention to her instead of looking at Carver, maybe she would still be alive. It was my mistake and she had paid with her life. But it was too little, too late. All that was left was for me to learn my mistakes and move on.

When it came down to my work – Well, let's just say that I hadn't expected to do so well. Along with Athenril, we planned and engineered new ways of smuggling without the guards noticing. With fewer bribes to the guards to turn a blind eye, we had a larger cut for ourselves. I took the name 'Hawke' and the underworld took note of me. The money came even easier after that. Many people came to me with investment opportunities and my list of contacts grew. Athenril's smuggling ring had never seen so much work before. Our group grew, needing numbers to get all the jobs done and soon, we did end up rivalling the other thieves' guilds around Kirkwall. I had a very happy boss in Athenril and she had a very talented employee in me. My wages, as well as Carver's wages, doubled and then tripled.

Aside from all that, the year brought a lot of surprises. Apparently, the Blight had been defeated by a woman who had been named the 'Hero of Ferelden' and she became Queen alongside King_ Alistair_. Flemeth's prediction had come true. He would live to tell the tale after all. I was comforted by that though why, I wasn't even sure. Though Alistair reminded me of my brother, someone I loved very much, he wasn't actually my brother. I didn't want to care. I didn't want to feel the pain of loss anymore.

It was also the year in which the Qunari crash landed upon Kirkwall's shores and many gossipers on the streets whispered to each other that this was surely a bad sign for where the Qunari went, war would soon follow. This wasn't something I could be bothered about either. The politics of Thedas would be endless. It was present in all the years before I was born, it would be present after I died. It didn't seem like there was much point in worrying about it.

Merrill turned out to be a pretty great friend to have around considering her use of blood magic. It seemed that her sweet countenance seemed to soften demons into helping her rather than controlling her for she didn't turn into an abomination. I was always amazed at her luck. What was her secret? It wasn't that I was interested in cutting my arm or bleeding myself but I had to wonder: What was it about Merrill that allowed her to communicate with demons and not be a monstrosity?

Aveline became like an older sister, constantly watching out for me. She became a Guardsman and she was always spying on me. I hated it but I appreciated her care and concern. She was a comfort to me during that year when I had abandoned my family. She never berated me for my actions and instead, kept a close eye upon Mother and Carver so I would never have to worry. She supported me, telling me that it wasn't a bad thing that I find stability in my own thoughts and feelings before returning home. I was glad to have her understanding.

The only true bad news of note was about the Templars. A woman named Meredith rose to become Knight-Commander and suddenly, the Templars had garnered a lot of control over mages. She cracked down heavily, strict and severe punishments dealt out to apostates. With the year almost out and knowing that I had made a name for myself, I was becoming worried. Athenril's protection had come to an end. I needed to leave Kirkwall or find protection. Otherwise, it would simply be a matter of time before I was thrown into the Gallows or killed. Athenril suggested that I find something to do that would give me status in society to hide behind, rather than a name in the criminal underworld. She had suggested Bartrand's expedition into the Deep Roads.

But most importantly, that was how I found the rest of my friends and family.

* * *

><p>AN: Alright, this chapter was supposed to represent one whole year. I always felt that there was never enough emphasis of Hawke's year of servitude in the game. Very little detail was given - it was one cutscene of 'one year later!' So this was my version of what happened. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you, Mistress Vo, for helping me edit my work!

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	7. Secret Friends

**Chapter 7 – Secret Friends**

_Hales_

Good news: Carver and I were debt free and in the clear. Bad news: We now had to run from Templars for they were on an active search for apostates. Good news: Athenril set up a meeting with the dwarf heading an expedition to the Deep Roads that could change our lives forever. Bad news: Bartrand didn't want us.

In the last few days before Athenril cleared us, I went up and spoke to Carver. Sure, he was rude and called me 'sister' left, right and centre but he knew that we had to do something about the Templars. The choices were simple: I was to leave Kirkwall, we were to leave Kirkwall or we found something to hide behind. I offered to leave but Carver shook his head, "You've stayed away from home long enough, sister. Mother would explode if you actually left Kirkwall." I think a big part of me wanted to leave. Ferelden was clear of the Blight and though Lothering was a smudge upon the map of Thedas, it was still home, wasn't it? I could rebuild. It had to be better than squatting about in Kirkwall but Mother evidently wanted to stay. She had no intention of leaving Kirkwall and so, I moved back into Gamlen's home.

Mother threw her arms around me in delight when Widge and I knocked upon the front door. She had sobbed into my shoulder, "My girl is finally home!" and I had clung onto her in desperate relief that I was still an accepted part of the family. She admonished, "You will stay home from now on, hear? None of this running around living at some smuggler's hideout!" I was too happy to fight with her though Widge _hated_ the cramped space and had whined sorrowfully.

A few days after that, Carver and I met with Bartrand. The conversation went thus:

"No! Andraste's tits, human! Do you know how many people want to hire onto this expedition?" he spat out, irritated and angry.

Carver tried to convince, "Look, we know you want to go into the Deep Roads. You'll need to hire the best and we're the –"

"No. You're too late. Already done," insisted Bartrand.

"The money from this trip could fix everything!" Carver told him, thinking that Bartrand would understand, "You need us. We've fought darkspawn."

It didn't work. Bartrand snickered, "Look precious. I don't care if you tore the horns off an ogre with your bare hands." It was a sick reminder of Bethany's death. Both Carver and I blanched.

Carver gestured violently to me, "You make him understand. We're running from _your_ bloody Templars."

I rolled my eyes at him and said mockingly, "My _brother_ has a point. It's not his head but it is still valid."

Carver cringed at the term and snarled, "Thanks for that."

"So, how about it Bartrand?" I smiled winningly, "We're just what you need!"

"Looking for a quick way out of the slums right? You and every other Ferelden in this dump!" He strode off, "Find another meal ticket."

Carver rounded on me, "Well. Back to waiting for someone to turn us in."

I sneered at him, thoroughly irritated by how he was constantly trying to pick a fight with me, "It'll get harder if we're constantly at each other's throats."

He made a placating hand gesture and nodded, "I know. It just… seems like you either die in this city or you end up like the scum we're trying to bargain with."

I smiled, trying to reassure him, "Don't worry. I promise we'll find something soon."

He said scornfully, "Yeah? Or is this one of your pretty one-liners that actually mean 'if we don't find something, I'll run off like last time'."

"Carver…" I said in warning, "I did not _run off_." He didn't argue but his eyes were hard, icy glints. Instead he told me with savagery, "We need coin, status, something that we can shove in that dwarf's face and keep people off our backs. And all I can think of is _Uncle Gamlen_," he sneered.

I shrugged, "He got us into this city, more or less. If there's a chance he could push Bartrand…" I trailed off.

He nodded, "Worth checking, I suppose. What else can we do?" He looked a little defeated, "We're losing ground and I don't fancy waking up in the Gallows."

As we strode off towards the direction of home, a pickpocket shoved into me. I noticed my missing coin pouch and ran after him, "Hey!"

It all happened so fast. One moment, I was chasing him and the next moment, he was pinned to the wall, an arrow holding him through the loose material by his shoulder. A smooth dulcet voice came through, "I knew a guy once who could take every coin out of your pocket just by smiling at you. But you?" I watched a dwarf walk up to the pickpocket, holding out his hand, "You don't have the style to work Hightown let alone the Merchant's Guild." The pickpocket handed over my coin pouch. He lowered his voice like he was letting the other in on a secret, "You might want to find yourself a new line of work." I watched, partially dumfounded and amused as the dwarf punched him, pulled out the arrow and strolled off in my direction with a light-hearted, "Off you go."

The dwarf threw the coin pouch in my direction, twiddling the arrow in his right hand and said in a deep voice, "How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service." I liked him immediately and nodded thankfully at him. He had style.

"I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw," Varric shook his head in mock embarrassment.

I smiled with charm, "But you would?"

He returned my smile, "I would! What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you. He would never admit it either," he chuckled out, "He's far too proud but I, however, am quite practical."

"You're part of Bartrand's venture?"

He nodded, "The Deep Roads wouldn't normally be my thing but I couldn't let the head of our family go down there alone. So as you might imagine, I have more than a passing interest in this expeditions successful."

I considered him with a tilt of my head, "You're going awfully far out of your way just to hire another guard…"

"We don't need another hireling, we need a partner. The truth is, Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this on his own but he can't do it. Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

"It sounds interesting but if I had the gold, I wouldn't need this job," I told him helplessly.

"You need to think big. There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family up for life," he tried to convince us, his tone dramatic and winning.

"Come on, the dwarf makes some sense," said Carver before adding to Varric, "No offence." He turned back to me, "You started this and it certainly sounds better than ending up in the Gallows."

Varric wheedled, "We work together, you and I and before you know it, you'll have all the capital you need."

"It's not like I had anything better planned," I shrugged.

"Perfect!" Varric stuck his hands out in celebration and I shook his hand, "Kirkwall is crawling with work. You set aside some coin from every job and you'll have the money in no time."

Carver groaned, "Sure. Easy." Then his tone became hopeful, "But maybe Aveline's got some bounties out… and Mother! She's been saving the money you sent."

Varric smiled and chuckled, "Let's go see what trouble we can stir up."

I narrowed my eyes playfully at him, "What makes you so certain we can help? You know nothing about us."

Varric laughed, "On the contrary… you've made quite the name for yourself the past year. The Coterie has been squeezing smugglers out left and right and the only group to survive owes it all to you. The name 'Hawke' is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Ferelden fresh off the boat," he winked at me.

I could help the trill of laughter that came out as I waved him goodbye. I told Carver I'd meet him at home and went off to visit Aveline, knowing that she'd probably have work, even if she didn't want to give it to me. I found her by the rosters in the barracks. I cried out happily, "Aveline!"

She didn't even look at me, "Hello, Hawke."

I looked around awkwardly, feeling a bit stupid and tried for, "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Then she turned, "What? Oh right. Sorry. It feels like we just talked. I've been keeping an eye on you. Information is one of the few perks of being a city guard. Watch out for Bartrand. He's a son of a bitch."

I just finished talking to the man! How did she know about that? I huffed out, "You know I don't like it when you have people watch me."

She was unapologetic, "Saved me camping on your doorstep. After what we went through to get here…" she bowed her head and I understood. She had been really worried about Carver and me, getting mixed up with criminals. She trailed, "Well… you're no child but I take care of my friends."

For that, she was forgiven and I smiled grudgingly. Then she told me, "The places they have me patrolling? I've got time."

I teased her, "A person in your position? Sounds like you'd know some profitable things."

Aveline shook her head at me though her smile gave her away, "You know better than to ask that."

"One day, you'll be frustrated enough to go for it," I quipped.

She complained about her job, how unfulfilling it was and how there were so many problems with the city that she just wasn't allowed to deal with. It wasn't too surprising that she caved in and gave me a job though she insisted that she had to be present.

It ended up being fairly dirty, the Guard Captain Jevan embroiled in corruption and politics. The town criers would surely be talking about it for days. He had been sacrificing his guardsmen and exposing office details and secret accounts for a cut of money. It was valuable information that would have been valuable to a guild of thieves. When Aveline exposed this to the Viscount, it wasn't surprising that Jevan got kicked out of office and along with that news came a lot of positive results.

Good news: We got a lot of coin.

Better news: Aveline became Guard-Captain and she was finally happy with her job.

Even better news: I saw the sparks of romance fly between Aveline and Donnic. It was satisfying to see that Aveline could move on from her past, from Wesley.

The best news yet: She was grateful to me for helping and our friendship grew very much stronger. She had my back.

When Varric had news of a Grey Warden who had Deep Road maps, our group of friends grew. Anders. He was a fellow mage, a gentle-hearted man with tired eyes and a soulful smile. Though our initial encounters were over tragedy and the death of his lover, Karl, it never did detract from our friendship. Neither did the knowledge of his melding with a spirit of Justice. There was something about Anders that spoke to me, something about him that reminded me of Father. I told him that and he had teased, "So, I'm old?"

I shook my head, "No. You just have that something about you. The care and concern for all life as well as other mages, it is very hard to find someone like that in this day and age."

We spent a lot of time together, side by side. He taught me better ways of healing, I gave him reason to enjoy life again despite his fusion with Justice. He shared his experiences of the Circle with me and I told him all about the life of an apostate mage. He was a good friend to me, always there and though my heart continually ached over Carver, he proved to be distraction enough so I could forget sometimes.

Then there was Isabela… now wasn't she a charm? She had an unhealthy obsession, addiction and reliance upon sex but she told the best jokes, had a beautiful heart despite her flaws and taught me to loosen up about life. To my amusement, Carver's eyes could never really stray far from her chest and though I hated to see him looking at another woman like that, I knew it was necessary and never commented. Well, that wasn't until I found out he had been to the Blooming Rose.

Isabela said to him one day, "I saw you at the Blooming Rose the other night."

He had stuttered, "What? No you didn't," and after all these years of knowing him, that translated to 'yes you did'.

"I suppose someone else stole your chin to romance Faith?" Isabela asked with a too innocent tone.

"That's unlikely. She wasn't even working!" Carver said with a flourish, unknowingly stepping into her trap. Two sides warred with me. I hated the fact that he was seeing other people but honestly, the situation was just _so funny_.

"Mhm. Got you," said Isabela with triumph in her voice.

I teased, "Carver, what would Mother say?"

He stuttered until his entire face turned red.

And finally, there was Fenris, the last of us to join our group for a very long time. His story was heartbreaking. He was a slave, an elf who once had a family but to save them, he sacrificed himself, becoming another's slave. Lyrium was burned into his skin and with that, he lost his memories. He had haunted green eyes and each time I stared into them, I felt my heart break for him a little. Despite being a mage, I asked him to reserve judgement and eventually, he learned to trust me. In some ways, it was our relationship that was the most rewarding and I loved him best out of our little group. Still, I had found a group of friends, my 'family' in some ways and if there were ever a virtue that was missing in the Chantry books, I believed that 'friends' would be the one.

After a few weeks, we were almost at fifty sovereigns. Mother had saved a great deal of the money I had sent her and after the jobs Aveline had sent my way, the loot found on quests with Isabela, a few sovereigns contributed by Fenris and even a task now and again to help Anders, we were almost there. We were only a few sovereigns short… but we were also running out of tasks.

One night I came home to find Mother and Carver fighting with Gamlen. Mother was raising her voice, as close to shouting as she ever really got, "My children have been in servitude. Servitude! They should be _nobility_!"

Gamlen had retorted, "If wishes were poppies, we'd all be dreaming."

I consoled and placated, "This is the way things are, Mother. There's nothing Gamlen can do about it now."

Uncle sneered at me, "_Your_ Mother was supposed to marry the Comte de Launcet, instead, she ran off with your Ferelden apostate of a Father!" He turned to Mother, "You don't get to stay the favourite when you run off and do something like that."

Mother insisted, "Where is Father's will? If I could just see for myself!"

There was something fishy about the way Gamlen said, "It isn't here, alright? It was read, and returned to the vault. We didn't need to go looking at it again."

I asked, "Did Grandfather mention Mother in the will at all?"

"Our Father died when you were still soiling yourself, girl. You can hardly expect me to remember," he said snidely.

Carver and I exchanged a look and he sneered back, "Oh. Of course not. Why should you do something reasonable?"

I tried to be pleasant, "Please Uncle. We have a right to see it for ourselves."

Gamlen relented, "Maybe so but that won't happen. It's still locked in the bloody vault, in the estate and that is long out of my hands."

I choked on laughter as Carver threw his hands up in the air, "What daft bastard leaves that behind?"

"It was old news," said Gamlen, his hand gesturing rudely, "You think I've been sitting here for all these years waiting for Leandra to slink back?"

"Who bought the estate, Gamlen? Was it the Rhinehart's?"

The feeling came again. Something was fishy in Gamlen's reponse, "No one you know. Get used to Lowtown, sister. That's where we're going to stay."

I spoke to Carver after that fight later on that night, wanting to hear his more private opinions. He groaned in exasperation, "Maker, what a mess. I want to make things better for Mother… but some of what Gamlen says… I'm having a hard time hating him. Playing caretaker for someone else's life, stuck in their shadow… that's no way to live."

I turned away when he said that, knowing that he understood that feeling after playing caretaker for Mother during the year I spent at Athenril's base. I also knew he hated being second best to me and after I had made a name out for myself, 'Hawke' referred to me rather than him. I was thankful he didn't know I was adopted. The consequences would be severe. Still, I asked him gently, "Something you need to say?"

He shook his head, "Look, if you want to join the fight of who lost the most. Fine. But I never lived here." He shrugged helplessly, "Mother even gave me her old key to see if I could stir something up but I didn't know Grandfather. Finding his will doesn't matter to me."

I pulled him out of the house by the arm, wanting some privacy knowing Gamlen was close by. We sat down by the steps of the house and it was almost like we were back in Lothering but everything had changed. No one was as we once were. I said quietly, "She tried her best to give us what we needed. I think she's due the same. Not to mention," I added, "Maybe this will help you find the connection you are looking for."

Carver nodded, "I do see her side, Hales. Gamlen is definitely an ass but it isn't like we can just ask slavers to give back that house."

I frowned, "What have you heard?"

Carver gestured, "Uncle's a chatty drunk. He was up to his neck and signed everything over. That's who has the estate. Apparently, the most extensive wine cellar in Kirkwall is now a slave highway from the undercity. That's the family legacy," he ended bitterly.

I smiled at him, adventure sparkling in my mind, "I think we need to pay them a visit and look for Mother's paperwork."

He scoffed, "Oh yes, they'll be right neighbourly about letting us poke around."

I told him with a saccharine sweet tone, "We'll give them that chance. Sure."

Carver's blue eyes locked with mine and he touched my hand briefly, "You sure you're up to this? For a while there…"

I nodded, "I can handle it now, we've been doing a few jobs with the others. It helped. For so long, I kept seeing-"

"Bethany. I know. All that blood," he finished for me as I continually nodded, "Alright, Hales. If the key works, we'll clear the estate. From the undercity and up."

The two of us stared at each other for a moment, excitement in our blood and laughter in our voices. I had stayed away from Carver for so long, it felt so good just to _be _with him. We raced towards Darktown, sprinting all the way. It was so foolish, there could have been anyone lurking about in Lowtown much less Darktown but we got lucky. Outside Anders' clinic, we found the cellar doors. When Carver turned the key into the lock and it clicked audibly before the grate swung free, we shared another look of anticipation and went in without thought.

_Carver_

I could hear my heart pounding but it wasn't from fear, it wasn't even from nerves. It was pure adrenaline, egging me on. I wanted to hit something. I was the strength behind our attack, she was the meticulous one, ensuring we kept our enemies in front of us the whole time. Whatever the case, we were back to back, fighting for our lives together.

Inside, there was no such time to offer the slavers a chance to get out and let us snoop. They attacked on sight. And each of us found out first hand just how much each of us had improved in our individual talents over the course of one year. Her spells were stronger, my attacks more fierce, her magic was more intense, my slicing all the faster.

Blood spilled in pools yet neither of us felt sick. It felt good to find something worthwhile to do. I thrust my sword cleanly into one man's chest and swiftly pulled it out to behead another. Alongside, Hales froze one, burned another and all the while, the two of us laughed, drunk on that feeling of unity. It was us against the world and Maker, it was good to have her back.

We didn't actually end up cleaning out the entire house. That would have taken too long. We found the vault and figured that would be good enough. We just needed to get out. We found coin, amulets, new staves, lots of random knick knacks that would surely push us over the fifty sovereigns mark and finally, the chests within the vault. There were more sovereigns, more jewels and even a few heirlooms that I was certain Mother would love. When Hales lifted a well preserved document from the chest, I concluded, "So that's it. Grandfather's will? Let's just take it back to Mother and be done with it."

She gave the will a once over and I saw her expression brighten as she said with triumph, "No point delaying the news!"

As we went back home, we woke everyone up. Mother looked at the cuts and bruises all over us, horrified as she exclaimed, "Where have the two of you been?"

Hales smiled, the highs of battle still in her eyes, "We found the will," she said, her voice slithering over me. I shivered in delight. If that's what she sounded like when she felt drunk, I wanted to know how she sounded when she was wracking with pleasure.

I tried to focus on the task at hand and after clearing my throat, I told Mother almost breathlessly, "Grandfather left everything to Mother and us. It seems he had _some_ sense after all. See for yourself!" I passed the documents to Mother.

Gamlen looked around for an excuse to leave as she read, "To my daughter, Leandra and all children borne of her, the estate in Hightown and all associated revenues!"

Hales giggled in delight and I nearly laughed at her excitement, still drunk on adrenaline as she said, "We have a home, Mother! A real home!"

No one seemed to notice how inebriated we were from adrenaline and Mother had carried on in revelation, "They forgave me. Mother forgave me! But…" she turned to her brother, "Gamlen! How could you?"

He pointed the finger back at her, "You ran away, Leandra. What happened to 'love is so much more important than money'?" he sneered.

"It is!"

"You didn't even come home for the funeral!"

"The twins were a week old!"

"We all have our burdens. Mine was looking after a life you abandoned! How long was I supposed to wait?"

I interrupted, "You probably didn't even wait for the ashes to cool off."

"I took care of Father. I stayed!" He insisted, "And on his deathbed, all he could talk about was Leandra!" That struck a chord within me. When Father died, he had barely spoken to me. I had been away but… would everyone's mind only linger upon Hales and never upon me?

"Sister, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it but I did," he said, "And there is nothing I can do to get it back!"

"I don't expect that Gamlen. It's enough to know that they forgave me and didn't die angry. I'll petition the Viscount for rights to reclaim the estate. Maker willing, you'll even get your house back within weeks!"

Gamlen said in an exasperated tone, "You don't have the coin or standing to even get an audience with the Viscount. You need to be someone in this city to live in that house again."

Mother told him with a superior tone, "Then I had better get started."

When that conversation was over, whatever highs I was feeling were over. Gamlen… he didn't have the best life either and I understood that feeling of not being good enough in front of your parents. He was a man exhausted by life and I hoped that I would never be like him. I needed to find my own way. Everything we were doing, it didn't seem worthwhile to me. And because I couldn't sleep, I stared into the fire, not knowing what my next step should be.

I heard her trilling voice break into my thoughts, "Thinking about what life will be like in Hightown?"

I snorted derisively, "We're still a long way from that, I think. A long way from scaring Templars with our title…"

It was obvious that I broke her good mood. Good, I thought savagely. She sighed, "Is there something you'd do differently, Carver?"

I continued to look into the fire, "It isn't up to me. We're just trying to recover an old name for an old woman. And when we're done," I shrugged, "I don't know. I guess we'll sit around thinking about how great we _used_ to be."

She said nothing and I turned around to tell her, "Mother didn't even want that life until we got dumped here," then I accused, "And you're only interested because the Templars are on your back."

Hales looked like she wanted to slap me, "Very well, Carver." She looked down her nose at me, which was considerably difficult, given the fact that I was much taller than her, "What's your plan? I did offer to leave Kirkwall."

"I would start afresh. Try new things. Fix the things that went wrong rather than look for ancient names," I told her, waving my hands about because I didn't actually know what I was saying. The on-and-off attraction to her was really strange. When she made me feel inferior, I hated her. She was the irritating sister I was supposed to have rather than a potential lover. Just like now.

Hales shook her head, "Start afresh? What do you think we're doing here? Yes, we got dumped into Kirkwall because there was a Blight but that's what we're trying to do. We're trying to fix the wrong things so we can build a new life here! These ancient names seem silly but it might give us _a real_ home!" she emphasized.

"We had a home. In Lothering," I told her, "And if you'd done it properly, we wouldn't have to leave." I just wanted to vent, blame her for everything that went wrong.

She took it without blanching and replied, "If I could go back, I'd stop the Blight single-handedly too and maybe I'd be able to save Bethany." Her eyes were sad, the fire that was reflected in her eyes seemed weak and downtrodden, "That's what it comes down to really, isn't it? The problem is going back was never an option for us."

Hales turned to walk away and I called out to her, "Hales." She stopped in her steps but didn't look back at me and I confessed, "I feel… I don't know," I shrugged to myself, "It's like Mother taking it out on us. She's just scared." As she turned, I revealed my innermost feelings, "I don't have a place in the life she's trying to bring back for us. I'll be here if you need me but sooner or later, I need to find my own way." She nodded, understanding in her eyes.

She came back to me the next day, a stack of letters in her hand. "Here," she passed the bundle of yellowing parchment to me, "I got you something."

After the way our previous conversation went, I asked her suspiciously, "Why?"

Hales smiled, wistful and sad, "I hated the way we ended our last conversation. It was tense and… I wanted to fix that." She didn't have to do something like that, I thought to myself, instantly guilty over my earlier suspicions.

I flicked through the ancient paper, "These are by Father?" I asked her, "Are you sure they aren't meant for you?" Most of the words were about random mage topics and I told her, "I bet another mage could get more out of them."

She took the stack and fumbled through whilst shaking her head, pressing what must have been a particularly important note on top of the bundle before passing it to me. I read out loud, "For your service that cannot be admitted, I ask that you accept this trinket and know that I shall respect your name. Thank you, conscience of the Order, Ser Maurevar… Carver", I finished in recognition and looked up at her in shock, "Carver?"

Hales eyes gleamed with happiness, "He was the Templar who allowed Father to leave Kirkwall. _Your_ namesake!"

"A Templar?" I asked in confusion, "Have we met a Templar who isn't a colossal prig?"

She laughed, clearly amused, "Father must have felt he was worth honouring."

I read through some of the words and realized, "A man who let him look ahead and a name that would always mean 'skill thoughtfully applied'."

"Seems like he thought it held some promise," she murmured and I could see it in her eyes that this was more than just a simple gift. She was trying to give me purpose, to give me a past and a future.

"Not a link back, but how to go forward," I said quietly, grateful for her thoughtfulness, "That's what I was to him." I turned to her and shifted, "I… don't know what to say. Except… thank you. You didn't have to do this for me."

She stared into the fire, "I know you've been finding it difficult here in Kirkwall, with everything that we've been doing. There's no connection for you and I thought this would be appropriate. Father –" her voice broke and her eyes became misty, "He believed in that Templar. Father trusted in Ser Maurevar Carver and he must have named you in the hopes that you would always apply your skills thoughtfully."

As the fire began to die down, some spurts of flames flickered from her fingertips. When she was done, she smiled, touched my arm and spoke in hushed tones, "And just as Father placed his faith in the Templar, this gift is my faith in you – that one day, you'll do as Father predicts and leave a few craters in this world."

"Hales…" I said her name, trying to tell her how grateful I was. The warmth of her faith spread right through my body, my chest swelled and all this emotion overwhelmed me. It was unstoppable. Hales shook her head, waving aside my words, trying to tell me it wasn't necessary, "It's fitting really. After all, you're the only one out of the three of us that ever wanted to do something considered worthwhile."

I scoffed but gently, not wanting to hurt her feelings, "Oh come off it. You've been noticed for all those jobs with Athenril!"

She nodded, "Noticed, sure but I never wanted that. I wanted what Bethany would have had. A simple life. I never wanted to do anything 'worthwhile'," she lifted her fingers in the air, crooking them to make quote signs, "That's firmly in your territory."

I asked her curiously, "Why do you keep saying that?"

Her eyes flicked to me, fingers winding into her chain, the amulet I had given her flashing around her neck before her eyes went back to the fire, "You think I don't see it? The way your face changes when Mother and Gamlen argue and you realize that you can't hate Gamlen because he was in her shadow their whole lives? You think I don't realize the empathy you feel for the man because you feel like you're in my shadow?"

Maker, she saw _everything_. I felt like an open book for her to read. I shifted uncomfortably whilst she stood still and unmoving. It was disconcerting to see her so calm. I told her resentfully, "I _am_ in your shadow."

"I never wanted that," was her simply reply.

"You don't want to do worthwhile things?"

She shrugged, "Depends on what your definition of worthwhile is. Being loved is worthwhile to me. Loving someone is worthwhile to me. The rest seems pointless." Though her words made sense literally speaking, it felt like she was talking about things that I didn't know about, "I don't want to change the world. I don't want to do great things." Her eyes had glazed over, like she was remembering a sad and distant memory.

I was reminded of that conversation we had, in which Hales had told me, _"I only need one person to think I'm beautiful. For now, it is Bethany. One day, it'll be a man. And I'll only ever need one."_

I asked her, "Is being loved so important to you? Don't you have enough of that already?"

One corner of her mouth twitched and her eyes flicked to me in awareness. I knew her next answer was a brush off, "I'm just saying. It's not necessarily a complaint."

So many secrets. Why was she always hiding things? And what could it be? She had lived a mostly sheltered life, what could have happened to her that gave her such a haunted look in her eyes?

_Hales_

As Varric had said, Bartrand could hardly refuse my generous offer of Deep Roads maps _and_ fifty sovereigns. It took very little persuading before he said to me gruffly, "Tie whatever loose ends you have and come find me when you're ready to leave."

I told him we were ready anytime and our group would leave the following day. I gave them pretty little notice, barely a day but all of them were ready to come with me at the drop of a hat. Knowing that I would be away from home for at least a short while, I took the time to speak with Mother.

We sat in the corner of Gamlen's house and I told her about the news, "Bartrand is letting us go on that expedition. When I come home, we should have a lot of gold and plenty of treasures. We'll be noticed and we'll get that audience we need."

She deviated from the subject, reminiscing about the past, "When I told your Grandmother I was going to marry your Father, she threatened to disown me. She told me my children would be mongrels. Father wanted to lock me in but she told him, 'It's her life, let her ruin it.' I wrote to her now and again but she never wrote me back. I'm glad she didn't die hating me."

I blinked, ill equipped to handle such a situation. I fingered my necklace and tried to offer, "Grandmother didn't want you to leave. I imagine she was trying to hold you in the only way she knew how."

Mother smiled, her eyes glinting with pride, "She would have been so proud of you. You're everything she wanted in an Amell grandchild. She might have had a hard time accepting it at first but she would have _loved_ you. All three of you." Then she sobbed, "Oh Bethany, she was such a sweet little girl. Never cried… just looked at you with those sweet eyes." She stared back into the fire, at a loss.

I nodded, "She was so young to be taken from us."

Mother paced, face in her hands, "I keep thinking that there was something that we could have done. It's killing me. I… I remember that awful creature reaching down and… Seventeen years of loving and feeding and raising and… that was it."

I embraced her, rubbing her back, "Blame the darkspawn. Not yourself."

She tried to explain, "The darkspawn would have been happy with any prey. It was my fault it was Bethany. I – I miss her. There were the five of us when the Blight first began. It'll never be over whilst there are just three."

"The pain will ease," I said to her, "After all, there was little that could have been done. Bethany… she wouldn't want to see you like this."

Mother nodded, eventually calming herself to tell me, "I've written to the Viscount. I've an audience for after Bartrand's expedition leaves. I couldn't do anything for Bethany but with some luck, I can at least give us a home."

I encouraged, "That's great news!"

Her eyes were sad, gesturing to the distance between her and me, "I want to thank you. I know for a while there, I seemed like I really resented you but it wasn't like that. I just didn't know –"

I waved her words aside, taking her hands in mine, "I know… I wouldn't know how to deal with it either… You did your best and we're fine now so let's not linger in the past."

If she had wanted me to replace Bethany's death, I understood. After all, I wasn't of her blood. If she didn't, I also understood. After all, I wouldn't be able to deal with my child's death whilst losing everything all at once. It was in the past and I didn't want to upset her anymore.

Still, I wanted someone to love me unconditionally and a part of me would always doubt if anyone ever really understood me but sometimes, life is the way it is and you can't argue or fight with it, especially not when you've been so blessed already. I didn't have to have a family – it's a gift not a Maker given right. I didn't have to find a Father to love me. I could have ended up a stranded orphan on the street, sold into slavery or killed by beasts.

That night, I couldn't sleep from the excitement of the Deep Roads expedition and from across the room, I could hear Carver twisting on his bed. "You awake?" he asked in a brusque tone.

I nodded into my pillow, "Couldn't sleep," I answered.

I heard him groan, climb out of bed and pad towards the door. He asked me, "You coming?" As I rolled myself out of bed, I thought to myself that his question wasn't really much of a question at all. The little brat was ordering me! I went outside, shivering slightly and he was _no where_ to be found. I hissed, "Carver!"

A ladder dropped down beside me and I jumped a foot in the air. After a softly muttered oath, I climbed up, joining him on the roof of our Lowtown house. In the distance, I saw the small torches of firelight that had been lit and the Kirkwall moonlight was just as bright as the one in Ferelden. I rubbed at my arms, thinking that my thin shift bore out too much of my arms and legs for me to be outside on a chilly autumn night.

"I spoke to Aveline today," Carver revealed, "she lectured me. Said I was 'too bloody proud to take up a trade'." Then he sighed, "She doesn't get it. I told her that no one would hire me, that I'd be a pissboy after two years and she just gave me that look. The look parents give their kids when an excuse is being used."

I shrugged, "She's trying to look out for you. She sends people to watch me. It's irritating but I know she does it for the right reasons."

He snickered, "She doesn't actually think this expedition will pay off, you know."

"It might not," I told him.

"You realize that Varric isn't about to go into the Deep Roads if there wasn't profit to be made. The dwarf knows what he's up against," he insisted.

I shrugged, "You're probably right but there's always a slight chance."

"Minimal," he argued.

I agreed with him, "True," and then he fell silent.

The night was calm unlike the flurry of nerves within me. Stars were up ahead, ever as silent, ever as constant, ever as slow in their movements. I wanted to know how this expedition would turn out… now. I tried to even out my breaths, keeping myself from hyperventilating.

"So…" he said after a while, trying to break the silence, "You've amassed a group of friends."

And because he sounded so sulky, I nudged him, "They are your friends, too. I've seen the way you talk to Varric, argue with Aveline, you beat Fenris at Wicked Grace the other night and you eye Isabela's chest the way Widge eyes meat in the markets."

He said defensively but with a slight abruptness that nearly made me smile, "Yeah? Well, you don't get to complain about that!"

"I'm not complaining," I told him, "It's not a bad thing." Not really anyway. He needed to grow up properly and not get involved with someone he thought was his blood sister.

He accused in a rather jealous tone, "You've got a lover, don't you? That's why you're so bloody calm about it!"

I laughed at him, fingers hooked on my necklace, "Honestly Carver, do you actually think I've had _time_ to have a lover? I honestly don't have your energy to go to the Blooming Rose after everything we run around doing during the day."

Carver swore at me, "Fuck! Do you _have_ to bring that up?"

I shrugged, trying to pretend it didn't even matter, "What's the big deal?"

He snarled, "Don't give me that shit. Women hate it when their men see other women even if they aren't together."

I diverted the topic, "I really hate how you say that. It's sexist. Men hate it too." I couldn't help the strange satisfaction that sang inside me, the way he implied that he was still mine despite not being with me.

I was beneath him in a second, his heated body pinning me against the contrasting coolness of the tile as he snarled some more, "Yes I do hate it. I hate it when you so much as look at another man that isn't me." I nearly melted, I wanted to be beneath him, wanted to curl my arms around his neck and push my body up against his. Then I froze, belatedly realizing what I had almost done. My arms were already up, almost wrapped around him and upon realizing my thoughts, I tried to push at his shoulders. I was supposed to shove him off me, I realized. He was prepared, tensed and ready to resist my movements. He listed, "Anders. Fenris. Sometimes even Varric. And I hate how Isabela looks at you like you're something to eat!"

I reminded him, "Isabela's actually a woman. Unless she's got something she isn't telling us about."

He scowled at me, "Shut up!" before he leaned down. I quickly turned my head to the side so his lips would land on my cheek. I told him, "Don't kiss me. I'm your sister!" I told him, "Doesn't that mean anything to you at all?" I asked him, incredulous at his responses.

He stared into my eyes, "It was never like that for me," he revealed, thinking of words to explain, "You and Bethany… the two of you were sisters. Me and Beth… we were twins and we were siblings and it felt like that too but us? I've been reminding myself everyday for as long as I can remember that we're siblings but you're not."

I froze, thinking that maybe he knew the truth and then relaxed as he said, "No matter what the truth is, it has _never_ felt that way. We grew up together, we're family but whenever I called you 'sister', all I wanted to do was cringe. You're my sister but you have never felt like one to me."

I groaned, frustrated that he wasn't getting it, "That isn't an excuse!" I nearly shouted.

Carver was angry, livid that I had teased him about Isabela, fuming from my rejection and he pushed, "I don't really care. Don't kiss you? Fine." His hands gripped my waists and dragged them down, making me shiver in unwanted pleasure as he hissed into my ear, "There are other things I can do to you."

And because I needed to stop him, because I wanted him to touch me, because if I stayed under him a moment longer, I would have begged him to touch me, I said to him with an indifferent tone, "Learn some new tricks from the Blooming Rose, did you?"

He was off me in a second, "Fuck you," loudly thrown into my face.

I got no sleep that night.

Anders came to pick me up in the morning and I could hear him outside talking to my Mabari as I was readying my satchel. "Stop looking at me," he complained, "I- I really don't like all this… open… slobbery affection."

Widge barked, happy just to be getting some positive attention. Anders was a softie on the inside. I was certain Widge could sense it.

"Be a real pet! Ignore me until you want something and then…" he trailed before suggesting, "sit on my head!"

I nearly chuckled as Widge whined, not knowing whether to take Anders seriously or not. If Widge sat on Anders' head… Goodness, Anders would have a concussion for a week!

Anders sighed mournfully, "I miss Ser Pouce-a-lot."

If it weren't for the fact that Anders lived in Darktown, it would be good to get the man a cat. Maker knows he needed the company of something other than sick patients.

I walked into the living room, smiling tiredly at Anders, "Good morning… what are you doing here?"

He frowned at the dark circles beneath my eyes before embracing me, kissing my cheek in platonic affection as he did every time we saw each other, "Good morning sunshine, I thought I'd pick you up before we met up with Bartrand."

I carefully avoided Carver's constant glowering as the three of us left for Hightown.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm really enjoying writing about the dynamic between Hawke/Carver. What about the rest of you? Please R&R!

A shout out to Mistress Vo for editing my work!

Love, Ann


	8. Secret Treasures

**Chapter 8 – Secret Treasures**

_Leandra_

It is… difficult, being a Mother. I've often been told that if the task doesn't feel impossible, then you couldn't possibly be doing enough. Even so, I have never felt like the task was impossible. Not until now anyway.

Life used to be so simple when my children were little. They ate, they slept, they cried, they laughed. Their worlds were only as big as their parents and nothing else mattered. People seem to think that when children grow up, the task becomes easier. I've found that it is the opposite. When they grow up, their worlds open, they want to make their own decisions and nothing is as simple as it once was. They aren't happy the way they used to be. The same jokes don't make them laugh as much. Happiness is harder to achieve.

Out of all of our children, it was always our eldest daughter that worried Malcolm and I the most. When Malcolm first brought her home, she was a heartbreaking picture in our living room. She sat on a wooden chair, her pose prim and elegant, not even making a peep or sob despite the constant tears that fell down her face. Malcolm had mentioned that he had seen her wandering around the village and even the surrounding farmlands yet she had kept her clothes and shoes clean. She had even gone as far as to wash her hands and face in the well outside our small house. She was a five year old in shape and size but her eyes were haunted, like those of an embittered woman and her actions spoke of harsh realities that no child should never know or face.

She was also such a wonderful child, or maybe she wasn't really much of a child at all. Caring, considerate, neat, tidy, helpful and most of all, loving. I think her ability to love was the only thing about her that reminded me of how young she was for she loved the way naïve children loved. She loved like being heartbroken didn't bother her. She trusted like it didn't matter if someone abandoned her again. She gave the family everything she could and it showed through little things like helping me cook, teaching Bethany magic and reading to Carver, to all the big things like the way she left home thinking that I hated her for Bethany's death, leaving all her coin for the family when she worked with Athenril and trying her best to keep a distance between herself and Carver.

A family should never have favourites but lovely little Hales had grown into a beautiful woman and she would forever have a special place in my and Malcolm's heart. But I worry for her, immensely so.

It is an odd thing. There's often a saying that if one cannot love another without trusting someone, it is not love at all but watching Hales grow up, I feel that she is either an exception to the rule or maybe the proof that such a rule should not exist. As I said, she loved very deeply but she had a past, a secret life that taught her about the ugliness of the world and even though Malcolm and I made her very happy, she was never willing to speak of her past. It was as though she didn't have trouble loving but she had a lot of trouble being loved.

I never asked her about her past, not wanting to upset her but both Malcolm and I knew that her old life hurt her very deeply and she never truly healed from that. Sometimes we felt that perhaps she was waiting for something, waiting for someone before she could heal; a person who would open her heart's secrets so that she could rejoice in the love shared with her.

Malcolm always felt that whatever her past life, one day, she would have to deal with it. He felt that she was destined for greatness but as a Mother, I hoped that this was not so. Being great is its own burden.

Yet, in all of the things she did and achieved, I knew I could not fault my husband for his logic. She had talent in almost everything she did. Magic was second nature to her, spells came to her naturally. She picked up ingredients and made meals that tasted like heaven. She could even make a name for herself by being a smuggler.

However, in all things, she never sacrificed her principles. Hales believed in doing the _right_ thing and it wouldn't matter how much it hurt her or how much she suffered. If it was wrong, she wouldn't push. So, I thought that she would turn out fine but Malcolm had often disagreed. He told me that out of our three children, he felt that one day, she would see too much of the world, too much of the ugliness and one day, harden her heart until she felt nothing. And by then, she might not care anymore about right and wrong.

In some ways, he was right.

It first started when she became something more than a sister towards Carver. Malcolm was the first to sense it. He said to me, "There will be trouble between Carver and Hales one day."

When I asked him why, he explained, "Hales is a sister to Bethany but Carver doesn't see her that way. He's forcing himself to call her 'sister' but each time he does, he clenches his fist."

I gasped, horrified at the thought, "But she's his sister!"

Malcolm had shrugged at the time, "Then maybe it is a good thing that they aren't _actually _related." For some reason, it didn't seem to bother him and he reminded me, "She is adopted, Leandra."

"He doesn't know that. Only she does." I told him. For whatever reason, Carver and Bethany never seemed to _remember_ that Hales was adopted. It was like they never remembered her sudden addition into the family for they never mentioned it. There were times when I felt the temptation to question the twins about it but there was always something holding me back. What if my questioning caused them to reject Hales? What if they no longer wanted her as part of the family? My fears for Hales' emotional stability made me curb my tongue.

Malcolm wrapped an arm around me and kissed my brow, "It is obvious that a part of him subconsciously recognizes that she isn't his sister otherwise, he wouldn't behave the way he does. One day, he'll find out."

I asked him, "What should we do?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. Hales keeps a lot of secrets. She needs to learn to let people into her past. There is nothing we can do. I can only hope that when he finds out, it won't be too late because I think he's the only one who'd ever be able to help her."

I always wondered where Malcolm got such thoughts from. He seemed to just sense things. I never understood the logic. If Carver truly didn't remember that Hales was adopted, why and how would he suddenly find out? And why did he believe that Carver would open Hales up from her past? Why didn't we try?

The problem was that I always believed in Malcolm, had the world of confidence in the things he had to say and never questioned him, in retrospect, I probably should have. I probably should have asked about a lot of things that I wilfully swept beneath the proverbial rug.

Carver and Hales spent a lot of time together. I saw the change within them. The secret looks, the soft brushes of hands, the way she'd smile at herself in the middle of the day, the way he'd look at her when he thought no one was watching and then there was all the sneaking out late at night. Malcolm and I often listened to their conversations and it was obvious that she never revealed to him the truth that she was adopted. When Carver pushed for more, Hales only maintained that she was his sister and that what they did was inappropriate.

I was relieved but Malcolm's worries turned deeper. He questioned, "She's worried about what other people might think but doesn't he get to make the decision too? Is pretending to be his sister really the _right_ course of action? Carver is still young, yes but he will one day be a man in his own right. He deserves the chance to make his own decisions."

His words were beginning to make me worry. She evidently had a lot of inner struggles and I realized that Malcolm might have had a point. I wanted to talk to her about it, wanted to talk to Carver about the situation but then… Malcolm died.

It was another phase in which Hales' inner struggles became stronger. In my grief, I had no capabilities to try and help her. All I had left of my husband were two letters; one for me and another for Carver and I was given specific instructions that the letter was only meant to be given to Carver when the situation between him and Hales became dire, when it seemed like a relationship between them, any relationship, was impossible.

Still, my grief did not make me blind. I saw how she took over as many responsibilities as she could, trying to look after both me and Bethany. I saw how she stayed strong, how she never cried or complained and so, I said nothing when she went to see Carver. She needed to find comfort before she became made from keeping her grief trapped inside. It was all I could give her at the time and it was my failure for never trying to offer her the comfort she needed from a Mother.

When Hales came home, I sensed two conflicting changes in her. With her fingers constantly fondling a new amulet and from the way she would look down at the blue crystal and then smile to herself, I knew Carver had given it to her. She never took it off and I was beginning to see Malcolm's point. Maybe Carver _was_ the only one who could make her release the hurt she kept so close to her heart.

On the other hand, her eyes grew more haunted. Something had happened to her at the camp. I tried to ask her if anything was wrong but she always shook her head, claiming that she was only worried about Carver and how he was dealing with Malcolm's death. From the way she looked, I knew nothing _intimate_ had happened between them and whatever was on her mind had nothing to do with Carver but rather her past. That haunted expression she had as a five year old; the fear and disillusionment was back in her eyes and I just knew that Malcolm was right – her past was back to trouble her.

We never had time to truly discuss anything though I had wanted to quite a number of times. First, it was the Blight and then Bethany died and Hales had truly taken a turn for the worse. Well, to be fair, everyone and everything had taken a turn for the worse but she became aggressive, harsh and emotionally unstable. I didn't know what to do. Then I found her with Carver, his arms wrapped around her the way Malcolm used to embrace me and he dropped kisses on her brow.

The resemblance was so remarkable that I nearly lost my breath. And she was so calm in that moment that I knew Malcolm _had_ to be right! Carver was capable of unlocking her pain just by being there but I was… I was so lost with Bethany's death that I wasn't capable of being a Mother. I was so confused and worried about the two of them that I just buried my head in the sand, disapproved of their relationship and just pretended not to see anything.

The truth was in my mind though. I knew that Hales would never truly be happy without Carver. I was actually beginning to suspect that Carver knew of her adoption but when she spent the entire year away from the family and away from Carver, I knew that couldn't be the case.

When he told me that nothing had happened between them and she had broken things off, nothing made sense. What was she thinking? I didn't even know. I was so exhausted by life that I couldn't deal with everything. I brushed it aside just like I had brushed aside the questions I had about Malcolm. It was wrong but it was just too difficult for me.

I thought something had happened when they gave me the will but nothing had eventuated.

I thought something had happened when Hales found letters to give to Carver but nothing happened either.

Then when I heard Hales and Carver on the roof of Gamlen's house, arguing about the fact that she was his sister though he never thought of her that way, I was _certain_ that Carver knew the truth.

But in the morning, the two of them wouldn't even look at one another. This wasn't like Carver. If he found out that she was adopted, he would have thrown a tantrum, shouted and yelled, pushed and persuaded until Hales surrendered to him. She hadn't told him and Carver still didn't know.

My mind had been pushed back and forth so much that I was beginning to feel exasperated with Hales. What was going on in that mind of hers? It was time to give Carver the letter Malcolm had written. The family was lost without his influence. I should have given Carver the letter during the year Hales was away but I didn't have the emotional capabilities to deal with the potential fall out. I wanted to believe that everything was over and nothing would eventuate between the two of them. I wanted to believe that Hales would miraculously heal from her past and Carver would simply give up on waiting for her.

I should have known better. The two of them have never been anything if not stubborn.

I stared at the old satchel I had, thumbing the leather strap with some affection before opening it up to look at all the little trinkets I couldn't bear to part with. Little things spilled out. The red dress Hales wore when we first her, the drawing she had clenched in her fist, Bethany's first bracelet that Malcolm had carved for her, the letters Malcolm had left me in our courting days and the letter he had left for Carver.

I could give the letter to Carver when he came home tonight, I mused to myself before stopping short. The expedition. Today. No! After all the evading that I had done, all the stalling, I didn't want to put it off any longer. I needed to speak with Carver. Now! I ran to Hightown, hoping to catch them, hoping that Carver hadn't left yet.

I needed him home.

I needed him to understand.

_Carver_

I glared at the way Hales hooked her arm with Anders' proffered one. She smiled when he complained about the Deep Roads and how much he hated being there. She tried to convince him, "Aw, come on Anders! It'll be fun!" Her tone was so bright and sunny, it almost made me smile. Almost. The corners of my mouth twitched and I wiped the expression away with a harsh snarl.

"Fun? No, I don't think so but I'm coming anyway," he ruffled her hair and shot a dark look at me, "Delicate mage flowers have to stick together," he told her. Hales giggled as she smoothed out her curls but her high-pitched, girly laughter really rankled. She never giggled like that around me and I hated her for it because it made me feel things I had no business feeling. Sister. Sister. Sister, I repeated in my head. She was my sister! Then she giggled again and oh… that tinkling sweetness rang like bells. I forgot my anger and I wanted to smile. Again.

At the meeting spot in Hightown, Bartrand told all of us, "We've chosen one of the hidden entrances into the Deep Roads. The entrances will be nice and _virginal_. Ready for a good deflowering." Anders exchanged a look with Hales and both of them rolled their eyes before turning to the other side, trying to resist the urge to laugh.

Varric said to Hales, "Now there's an interesting image."

Isabela chuckled, "Mmmm… deflowering. Sounds wonderful."

Bartrand continued, "It'll take a week to get to the depth we need. There'll still be leftover darkspawn from the Blight. Big risks, big rewards."

Fenris muttered, "That's the idea, dwarf," whilst Hales said in mock drama, "Risks? Rewards? What could be better?"

"Ha! Exactly! Now," Bartrand caught sight of something in his periphery and yelled, "Wait! Who the hell invited the old woman?"

_Mother!_ What was she doing here? She apologized, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Ser dwarf but I need to speak with my children."

With reluctance, Hales and I went to Mother, each of us carefully avoiding the other's eyes. I said to her, "Mother, no. We talked about how important this is." I knew why she was here. She wanted to convince us not to go or something equally stupid. I could protect myself! I didn't need her to look after me.

Mother looked to Hales, "I just want to know one thing. Are you planning on taking Carver with you?"

"I –" stuttered Hales in surprise, "Well… er… Mother, I thought everyone was going so I guess, Carver is too? I hadn't really thought about any alternatives."

I said to Mother with conviction, "I'm going. It'll be fine!"

Desperation lined Mother's face, "It's not fine! You can't both go! What if something were to happen to you?" She looked back to Hales, "You, I understand wanting to do this but leave Carver here, I beg you!"

Hales glanced at me and the way she was nibbling at her lips and winding her fingers into the necklace I gave her spelled trouble. She was going to cave. I just knew it. "I said I'm going!" I crossed my arms over my chest, "Besides, if we're so bloody afraid of those Templars, I should go and _she_ should hide!"

It was _then_ that Bartrand stepped in to tell us, "Well it isn't like you can take everyone anyhow. Take your pick and do it quickly! We'll be going for several weeks so make your decision."

"Several weeks?" said Hales in surprise. This had been news to her. She looked to Aveline, "You wouldn't be able to come with us. You have responsibilities here."

Aveline nodded, "I do. I can stay here and look out for your Mother whilst you are gone."

Anders stepped forward, "I might hate the bloody Deep Roads but you're not going without me. I am a Grey Warden after all."

"And a healer…" said Hales sweetly, her eyes glinting with affection, "We'll need your talents, I'm sure."

Varric interrupted, "And of course I'm going. My brother is heading the expedition!"

"You can only take one more person," said Bartrand.

Hales looked towards her companions and then back at me for a moment. Merrill asked, "Can I come?"

She nibbled on her lip some more, "Merrill… I'm a mage and Anders is a mage… we're going to need a little more front line attacking… I'm sorry…"

Merrill shrugged and Isabela said, "Don't worry kitten. There's plenty of trouble to stir in Kirkwall." She looked to Hales, "I guess I'm not coming then, Hawke. Hope it goes well."

That left me and Fenris. Fenris cleared his throat and stared at her meaningfully. I stood forward as a volunteer as well. Hales looked at the two of us but she wouldn't meet my eyes. My heart sank before she opened her mouth to say, "Alright. Fenris, Varric and Anders. The rest of you, I'll see you when I come back."

Mother sighed gratefully, "Oh thank the Maker!" I sure as hell wasn't thanking the bloody Maker.

I charged in front of Hales, "What? Now you're just being daft. You need me down there!" I insisted, wanting to shake and strangle her. I tried to force our eyes to lock.

She wouldn't look at me and said with some awkwardness, "We can't both go into the Deep Roads. It's too dangerous." She struggled a bit; evidently looking for any excuse she could find and then amended with just a little more bravado, "What if something were to happen down there? One of us needs to be here to look after Mother."

I scoffed, "So I get left behind to mind the chickens? I see how it is." I was bitterly disappointed and spat at her, "I know what this is really about. If it weren't for last night, this wouldn't be happening!"

Her silence admitted everything and so, I stormed off with Mother following me after she muttered a goodbye.

_Hales_

It was a cowardly thing to do really. Carver had the right to be in the Dark Roads with me. The money we raised was half his after all. As he stormed away, I felt guilty. Yes, it was because of last night. His kisses, his touches, I could still feel the heating brand of his hand upon my waist, could still feel the memory scorching shivers that threatened to overwhelm my body.

I shouldn't have stopped him from coming but it was so much easier than actually dealing with him! I couldn't handle darkspawn, the Deep Roads and our complicated relationship _at the same time_! What if he spent the entire time trying to convince me to be with him? And… what if I gave in? Being with Carver, there was something about him that made me feel lighter than air, like nothing mattered in the whole world except us but what would happen when we're back to reality? Everything mattered. Mother's thoughts mattered. Our family's thoughts mattered. I didn't care for Gamlen but he affected Mother. She didn't deserve the judgement she could potentially be put through. And what of our friends? What would they say? Who would understand?

And already, he was giving me problems despite not coming along with us.

Varric eyed me with interested suspicion, "So, Hawke. What happened between the two of you last night? Sounds… dramatic and fascinating."

I shook my head, watching Carver's broad back disappear behind a corner of a building, "Not now, Varric. It's complicated. _Very_ complicated." I had never told anyone of my past. No one knew. None of my companions had even an inkling of my complicated past.

Or so I thought until Anders and Fenris pulled me aside to talk whilst the hirelings drilled deep underground. We were three days into the expedition, deep enough to be underground but not deep enough to reach the treasure.

Fenris sat me down by the fire, quite the way from Varric and Bartrand. He stated severely, "We must speak."

Anders echoed him, "Yes, we must speak."

I looked at the two of them and asked, "I thought the two of you hated each other?" They glared at one another and I nodded, they did hate each other. I hadn't landed in some alternate reality where they were best friends. That was reassuring.

After a humiliating length of silence, Fenris said, "We… figured there was something you should know. The mage and I… we discussed the possibility that –" he snarled and gnashed his teeth together and spat out, indicating to Anders with a rough hand motion, "You tell her!"

Anders looked toward Fenris with derision in his eyes before turning back to me, "There's something we need to ask you first. Your Father… Malcolm. Fenris told me that he saw a picture of him at your house and that he had blue eyes, is that true?"

I nodded, not understanding the seriousness of the atmosphere in relation to the topic, "Yes. He had blue eyes. Everyone in my family has blue eyes aside from me."

The two of them exchanged a rather sick look, awkward and nervous. I found myself quirking an eyebrow at the exchange. Anders took my hands in his and I gathered from his gesture that he was trying to be emotionally supportive as he said, "Then… you couldn't possibly be their child."

My expression froze. How could they have known about that? I said nothing, my mind blank and devoid of answers. Fenris narrowed his eyes at me, "You know this to be true already." He snarled at Anders, "I told you!"

I put my hands up in the air, trying to placate the two of them before they could argue, "Hold up. You can't just say things like that without giving me some context as to how you figured all this out."

Fenris said one word, "Carver," then looked at Anders, telling him with his eyes to elaborate. Carver! But Carver didn't know. He didn't even remember that I was adopted. It was odd really, considering that Carver was already four but I just figured that maybe, not everyone remembered the past with as much clarity as I did. I brushed my thoughts aside and focused upon the topic at hand.

Anders snickered self-deprecatingly before explaining, "It was a couple of things. I overheard Fenris telling Isabela one night that he had visited you and that you had shown him a picture of your Father. Then he said that in the entire Hawke family, you were the only one with brown eyes. When he said that, I assumed that your Father had blue eyes."

I nodded, "He does."

He continued, "I thought that it couldn't be right. Unless, you weren't actually his blood child. I decided to ask Fenris and he insisted that the eyes were blue in the picture. So, I instantly knew."

"I fail to see how one leads to the other," I told him plainly.

Anders waved his hands in the air, "Look, I could bore you all day with discussions of how the energies of magic work in humans but it is basically a long standing truth: if both parents have blue eyes, all their children will have blue eyes. You don't have blue eyes so you can't be their child."

Fenris took it from there, "I knew that he wouldn't ask him a question like that unless he felt it was important so I convinced him to tell me his thoughts."

"Convinced, he says, more like threatened to puncture my chest if I didn't tell him," said Anders snidely.

I gave Fenris an admonishing look to which he shrugged, "I had been suspecting your heritage for a while as well. The two of us argued whether you knew or not and whether it was a good idea to tell you."

I asked Fenris, "And why would _you_ suspect my heritage? Anders knows the human body well, I get that but you?"

Fenris said with a very neutral tone, "Carver does not look at you the way a brother looks at a sister. I thought the two of you were…" he made a hand gesture, "And felt that you must know otherwise, the implications would be slightly unpleasant."

Anders shook his head, "But you never spoke about it, there was nothing in your words that implied a less than blood relation between you and your parents. Between these few facts, a lot of things didn't add up. Then when Carver said 'if it weren't for _last night_'," he emphasized the words, "Fenris and I decided it might be best to speak with you about it."

Damn it. The truth was unravelling. And quickly. I needed to keep this quiet. I didn't want to talk about this. I didn't want questions asked. I didn't want to face my past. It was my past and it was a closed topic. Done. Over. I wasn't about to reopen it like a chapter in a novel and then ask stupid questions. I asked them, "Who else knows?"

"Just the two of us," both of them said simultaneously.

"Keep it that way," I ordered and offered no more explanation, standing up as a sign of ending the conversation. Each grabbed onto an arm to sit me down again. I huffed out in surprise, my bottom landing hard upon the crate that had served as a makeshift chair.

Fenris told me, "It is now your turn. Speak."

I was diplomatic in my answer, "You know I'm adopted. That's great. What else needs to be said?"

He said warningly, "Valentha…", using his private nickname for me that meant 'little bird' just as Anders told me, "Well, you could explain the situation between you and Carver. Or maybe you can tell us why you aren't surprised by the news."

I looked around us for distractions but it proved futile. They stared at me expectantly and I stared back like I had nothing to offer. The game of silence lingered about us before I groaned out and reluctantly told them, "I'm adopted. I was adopted when I was five. My mother…" I sighed out and continued dutifully, "She left me in Redcliffe markets, abandoned me when she realized I was a mage."

Anders frowned, "Wait a minute. You were five when your powers started to show?"

I nodded, "Yes. She- Maker," I asked them with exasperation, "Do I really need to go through this? I've never spoke to anyone about this. Not even with my parents!"

Fenris touched my arm, "Just tell us what you can. We understand that this brings you pain."

That was understating the obvious but I took a deep breath and rushed out petulantly, "I used magic in front of her. She was horrified though I didn't understand why at the time. She abandoned me. Malcolm, my Father, he found me and took me home. I was five and the twins, they were four. After about a week, Mother and Father sat me down and told me I was a part of the family. End of story."

I leaned my elbows onto my knees and placed my head in my hands, speaking into them, "I'm surprised that the twins don't know that I was adopted but somehow, they just never really remembered. Bethany – she was already speaking in sentences but I taught her how to say 'sister' and my name."

Anders looked horrified and Fenris scowled. I said loudly, defensive of their looks, "What?"

Anders hissed, "So Carver doesn't actually realize that you aren't his sister?"

I groaned, "No he doesn't," then I glared at them, "And he better not find out."

He stuttered, "But the two of you…"

I cringed, "Maker, this was what I was trying to avoid! I don't need all this judgement!" I didn't want my friends judging Carver, judging what we shared. I didn't want someone to try and dirty our relationship. Carver made me… happy. I sighed, the problem was that our relationship tended to make everyone else disgusted or _unhappy_.

Fenris consoled, "I think you misunderstand. It isn't you that we're judging. We judge Carver although I suspect he remembers something. It would explain his actions."

Anders added, "We just think Carver might be a potentially sick bastard, that's all." He smiled winningly but I just looked away.

I sighed, "He and I… it is complicated. We've never… " I blushed, "We've never done anything like _that_. The kisses we shared were no more than the ones I gave Bethany or my parents but… underneath all that…"

"There was attraction," said Fenris.

He certainly had a way of understating the truth but I nodded anyway, admitting defeat. I confessed, "I tried to stay away from him. He joined the army for a while. Then Father died. Then the Blight happened. Then Bethany died. Then I was in Athenril's employ and I lived away from home. I really tried to stay away from him." I looked at them in earnest, "After all, I'm still a Hawke. People will judge regardless of whether we are actually siblings or not. I couldn't let him know the truth because… well, Carver…"

Anders said, "He isn't exactly mature?" then snorted, "What am I saying? He's still a snot-nosed little brat who acts like a ninny."

His tone was so comical that I laughed. When the bubbling delight died down, I told them, "It would only encourage him and I really didn't want that. Sooner or later, it would only end in disaster. I know Mother doesn't want us together like that and… I'm a Hawke," I repeated, "What would people say? I should be protecting the family! Not exposing us to more controversy!"

Fenris gestured, "Then what happened between the two of you when he said 'last night'?"

I shrugged, seeing no point in lying, "We fought. And argued. He wanted more and I tried to deflect by teasing him about him going to the Blooming Rose. When it didn't seem like he wanted to give up, I –" I groaned and Anders prompted me, "You?"

I glared at him before spitting out, "I said and I quote 'Learn some new tricks from the Blooming Rose, did you?' He wasn't too happy with me."

"Yeouch!" said Anders, "That's cold." Fenris just snickered.

"Alright!" I half-shouted in defense, "That's enough! I don't want to talk about this anymore. I just- I can't." I looked into my hands, "I still remember what it was like. That feeling. Being abandoned," and for the first time in fourteen years, I cried about my past, the tears welling over my eyes and making my vision blurry, "I still remember the life I left behind, the people, well…" I sobbed, "People means plural, huh? Person… the person I loved," I finished off pathetically.

It was a lot of things, I mused. The life I left behind, the person I left behind, even leaving behind Carver because wasn't that what I was doing? That was my life story, constantly leaving things behind me and moving forward because there was nothing else left to do. Or maybe, it was life constantly abandoning me. Maybe it didn't matter, these were just semantics. The point was that my mother, my biological mother, hadn't wanted me. Alistair had wanted me but no one else and I had moved forward.

I had ignored the pain of my past, closed it up in a box and pretended it never happened. I pretended that I was never hurt, I was never abandoned, I was never a young child feeling loved and cherished in the eyes of her older brother before being forcefully thrown out of his life such that I would never see him again.

And now, where the mother that had raised me didn't want me with Carver, where society wouldn't want me with Carver because we were supposedly 'siblings' though Carver wanted me, I would do the same thing. I would move forward because once again, there was nothing else left for me to do.

I would laugh and smile and tease Carver when he went to the Blooming Rose when in fact, I hated it. I _hated_ that he was seeing other women, _lying_ with other women, joking and courting other women. The jealousy bloomed right through my body, the anger of betrayal sinking into my veins. I felt the fiery scorch of hate that I couldn't be in his arms, couldn't have him hold me or kiss me the way he used to back in Lothering. And it was _all my fault. _I just had to give in but no, I couldn't.

My tears were for all the goodbyes I never had the chance to say, for all the goodbyes I would never get the chance to say. With my face in my hands, I allowed myself the chance to feel utterly defeated by life. What I wanted would never be mine. What bigger defeat was there in life?

Despite their hatred for one another, both reached out to comfort me. Anders held me in his arms as Fenris hushed me quietly, his uncovered hands briefly twisting in my hair. Fenris asked me, "Who was this person you left behind? Do you remember?"

I nodded into Anders' chest, unable to stop the words that spilled from my lips, "My half-brother. Alistair. We lived together in the servant's quarters of some house. My room was next to his and he would tuck me into my scratchy cot every night."

I felt Anders tense up, "Alistair?" He asked me.

I shook my head, "No more, Anders. Please…. No more."

The subject was dropped but after that, both of them seemed all the more attentive towards me. They took the time to ensure I was alright, tried to look after me as much as they could and though I could tell that they still didn't like each other much, they tried not to bicker. They were a comfort to me whilst in the Deep Roads, although, they were always a comfort no matter the time and year.

Around week three of our expedition, we started hitting problems. The road we were going to take collapsed and it didn't seem like a small issue either. Bartrand had yelled and screamed all day, "Useless! Why am I hiring you? What am I paying you Blighters for?" He had punched and abused his employees, shouted and yelled some more and when night fell, the problem wasn't fixing itself. We sought a different path.

The Deep Roads weren't as ugly and dirty as I thought. There were structures, beautiful structures of blue lyrium crafted into statues of Paragons. There were pillars upon pillars of the crystal blue substance and it was so clear, so translucent and almost glowing from within that my hand itched to touch them. At one point when I had stood too close to a pillar of lyrium, Varric had smacked my hand with some strength and told me off, "You're not a dwarf. Touch that and your skin will burn. Let's not ruin your lovely feathers, Hawke."

As we travelled through the side paths, I noticed that though the thaigs were old and the rooms were becoming dilapidated and breaking down, there was this glow about them. Despite the damage over time, the buildings had this grace about them like an old woman who had matured very gracefully. In its prime, I was certain that the rooms were luxurious and beautiful. Even along the way, I certainly found quite a number of priceless treasures.

Now and again, Anders would warn us as his internal darkspawn radar sang in his mind, "I feel darkspawn near us," and we would ready our weapons but they were few and far between, travelling in such small groups that none of us were ever injured or in need of healing. Well, that was until we found dragons.

We had found a rather large dragon in one of the main halls of the thaig, its wings spanning wide and its neck so long that I was certain it was taller than the Chantry back in Lothering. I had whispered to myself, "What in the Void is a dragon doing the Deep Roads? Don't they like air? Flying?"

It was a difficult beast to defeat. Everything about it was a fatal weapon. Its claws sliced just as efficiently as Fenris' sword. Its tail swung like a blunt instrument against my chest and I went flying across the room. Its fire was just as powerful as Anders' spells. I shot ice and lightening at it, making it roar in rage. The walls of the thaig trembled around me, vibrating against the walls and echoing in my ears. Leaning against the wall, ribs broken, feeling the pieces of bone pierce my flesh and hinder my breathing, I continued to push the mana out of my body - ice, ice, more ice until finally, there had been enough to turn it momentarily into a statue such that Fenris could behead it quickly. I sighed in relief. Anders sprinted over in concern to heal me, Justice reaching out to undo the damage of my broken bones. I felt the crack as the bones reset, a burning pain in my side as the broken pieces tore out of muscle and melded back to where they were supposed to be. I wasn't sure if I wanted to curl up and cry out or just not move and hope the pain would eventually fade away.

At least we found another way in. That was consolation for all the injury. And we found Sandal along the way. Bodahn was so relieved when he realized his son hadn't been lost.

We entered into the depths of the thaig and all Varric could say was, "Holy shit." Maker, it was beautiful. Whatever I had seen was nothing in comparison. A rainbow of colour burst from the crystals all around us. Lyrium in its most pure form. The pillars were intricately carved, statues stood proudly despite the wear and tear. I was in awe. I counted the colours, every possible shade shone out, each crystal glowed like a light had been lit within. We didn't need fire. The place was already alight from all the gorgeous glows.

Yet, I could also sense the evil in the place. A taint, which wasn't the darkspawn, was here. Shades presented themselves. Tainted golems attacked us. There was something, underneath that superficial layer of beauty that caused fear to rise in my heart. Danger, my mind yelled. Evil, my heart shouted. Something was wrong here but I shook my head anyway, thinking that I was probably just being paranoid.

Well, I ended up being right.

We found treasure. Priceless treasure, but also very evil and tainted treasure. Presented in the form of an idol carved from pure lyrium. I could sense its enchanting tendrils calling out to me, singing to me, seductively crooning to me but when I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, it was gone. It was like music, soft notes being plucked out upon a harp. When I leaned in to study it closer, Anders pulled me back, "It's magic and not the good kind."

"You too, huh? I can't help but feel like something is very wrong." I told him in a worried tone.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "Don't worry, sunshine. We won't let anything happen to you."

Varric reached for the idol and it glowed red. The colour was too bright and it pierced my mind. I burrowed deeper in Anders' warmth but even with my eyes closed, I could still see the colour in my head. I murmured to him, "There's something wrong here."

Fenris touched my shoulder and echoed Anders' words, "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you."

But the three of us saw the look on Bartrand's face down below as he caught the idol Varric threw him, heard his slightly entranced words of, "Excellent… You go ahead and find other treasures, brother." His words were slurred together, his eyes gleaming with something I knew I shouldn't depend upon.

I began walking downstairs towards him, not trusting him at all with the idol and I was right. The bastard locked us in, pushed the door until the booming echoed behind him, the vibration of being trapped settling into each of us. We ran to the door, beating at it but it was no use. A door of pure stone could withstand a lot of damage.

Varric shouted through the door, "Bartrand! Bartrand…" he looked at me, "I swear I'll _kill_ that son of a bitch!"

We were trapped. Trapped! My breath caught. Fear sank into me at the thought of never seeing the sun again. And Mother. Carver… oh Maker. And the last thing I said to him was so cruel… I found myself clutching at the walls, suddenly losing air. Anders told me quickly, "The Deep Roads are a weave of intricate paths. There will be another way."

I had no choice. I followed Anders but the deeper we went, the stranger our enemies. At first, there were shades and then more golems. Then there were these weird rock looking things that Varric called 'rock wraiths'. Each of them looked like multiple boulders of various sizes and shapes stacked on top of one another, held together by some form of force. They could be defeated, we found: a strategically cast spell or a hard push into the chest cavity made the rocks separate into lumps of dirt. More and more, the rock wraiths threw themselves upon us, their attacks tireless and strong the deeper we ventured. Our similarly assiduous must have garnered someone's attention for a booming voice eventually caught our attention.

"Enough!" a deep voice came, lumps of rock stabilizing and pulling together around a strange yellow force, like a little glowing light keeping them everything together. "You have proven yourself. I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

After a few days of being attacked, I felt on edge and snarled, "You're the first one who hasn't simply attacked us!"

As the rocks continued to build, it looked almost humanoid in structure. The glowing yellow lights were like little guiding paths, lining up rocks to appear like ribs, spines, arms and legs. It even seemed to have little pebbles as teeth. It spoke, "They will not assault you further. Not without my permission."

Varric asked, "What are these things? They _seem_ like rock wraiths but…" I shrugged, if he didn't know, what chance did I have?

The thing answered, "They are the Profane. They have lingered in this place for ages without memory. They feed on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

"The lyrium, that's what sustains them." I concluded and Anders murmured what I was beginning to suspect, "It isn't what it appears to be. It's interested in their hunger. It's a demon."

It made sense. Here was the taint. There was a demon involved, making everything seem vile and spoiled. Lyrium on its own had no evil but then I thought back to the idol and perhaps, I just didn't know enough.

The demon told me, "I sense your desire. You seek to leave this place and you will need my aid to do so."

Anders persuaded, "Don't do it. Making a deal with the demon is bound to bite you later."

I nodded, "We don't do deals with demons."

It attacked us, sending its abominations and other Fade minions to weaken us first. It was a long and weary fight. Magic, both good and bad, was everywhere. I was shocked and burned as I flung my spells about. The Profane were everywhere, their rock limbs bashing against our bodies. Fenris cried out, "Need healing!" and Anders and I both responded, healing his wounds away.

We knocked at the rocks that made up its body, thrusting our staves and swords and arrows into the cavities of the rock body, pushing spells right into its face. We could wound it, the little sprays of pebbles were evidence enough of that. It was like a spray of blood in my face, the life force running in its body spewing forth but instead of blood, it was dirt.

Eventually, the demon fell but none of us were without wounds. All four of us collapsed on the ground for a while, each of us trying to recover our mana or catch our breath. Too tired to continue, we slept. It was so foolish, we could have been attacked anytime during our rest but that was a risk we had to accept.

We were fine though. We woke up and no demons had attacked, no Profane or other creatures touched us. We ventured deeper and deeper, finally stopping in a large hall. It was a grand dome of sorts, pillars, of a material reminiscent of marble, held up the ceiling. The roof was covered by large spines of bone-coloured architecture, primitive art forms stuck all along the ceiling. I asked Varric, "Where are we?"

He looked about, perhaps recognizing the room from books he had read, "This is the vault. It would have been the place where the dwarfs put their –"

A rumbling sounded behind us, like rocks sliding against one another. My heart sank as we turned around, watching another Profane or rock wraith thing building in front of us. It was larger than the demon, much much larger, the yellow glow of the demon was replaced with a red one and this one did not speak. It was also vaguely humanoid. It had something that reminded me of hipbones and spines but judging by the sharp rocks that it had for arms, it wasn't friendly.

Varric said with apprehension, "That can't be good."

This rock wraith was ancient. I could tell. It bore many scars along the outer rocks that constituted its body. It had powers I couldn't even fathom. It exploded into tiny pieces, hitting our bodies violently and built itself again at a moment's notice. The red glow within its body could issue out anytime, burning at our flesh and eyes. It could reform its limbs, roll into a ball, there was nothing it couldn't do. I knew we wouldn't survive. It was much too powerful. We needed an army, not a few warriors or mages to attack it.

I felt weak, my body bruised and battered. I felt dizzy and light-headed, like I would soon faint. My spells slowed, my vision weakened, black spots were beginning to appear in front of my eyes. My knees caved, bent just as Varric was thrown back against the wall. I tried to heal him and he got up again, ready and willing to fight. I was at the last of my energy. I felt sick. I collapsed on the floor, heart pounding in my ears, the time between each beat getting longer and longer. I was dying, I realized. My body couldn't tolerate the damage it was being dealt with.

I was going to die. In the Deep Roads. Never to see sunlight again. Never to see Carver again.

Maybe… it wasn't so bad he wasn't here. I didn't… didn't want him to die.

My vision was gone but my mind was still alive. My thoughts were still echoing. Carver… I wish you were here. I wish you weren't here. I wanted to feel his arms around me.

Just one more time… and for a moment, I could almost feel his breath against my ear, his voice echoing in my mind. Strong corded arms touched my waist as breath finally drew to a pause.

"_Hales… Hales… Wake up for me… Open your eyes for me… Come back to me…"_

Then my body buzzed, like every fibre of my being was vibrating with power. Mana was rushing into me, power pushing itself into my body. Every part of me thrummed with life. My vision cleared, my heart was beating again and my breath came back. There was a strange pulse in our ears that wasn't my own heart. It was like… magic, the secrets of life coming to me one fell swoop. It was like a ball of energy within me…. Growing, growing, expanding in my mind's eye.

It was foolish, I know but I ran in front of the wraith, ignoring the cries of my companions and jumped... I felt myself suspended in the air, felt that strange sensation like I was walking down the stairs but there was no step there and released that ball of energy within me.

It was a strange thing. It felt like an explosion within me but visually, it was nothing but a pulse of bright blue mana issuing itself from my body. And just like that, the wraith disintegrated, a pile of rocks as the only evidence that it had ever existed in the first place.

Anders asked me, "How did you do that?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. One moment, I felt like I was going to die and the next, mana was rushing into me again."

Had Carver been with me? No. He wasn't in the Deep Roads. But I had heard his voice, felt him around me… was it just the wishful last thoughts of a woman about to die?

"Did you drink a lyrium potion?" asked Varric, his voice interrupting my thoughts.

I shook my head. Then I looked around. Carver wasn't here. But lyrium was. There was lyrium all around me. Maybe… just maybe, Varric had a point. I frowned in suspicion and walked to the red veins that had crawled up along the blue pillars. As my hand neared the substance, a strange glowing appeared between me and the substance. A string of glowing powder was linked between the crystal and my hand, I could feel the lyrium concentrating in power, floating an inch away from my palms and yet, I was not being burned. My skin was perfectly fine.

I heard Fenris' breath catch, "You're reacting to the lyrium."

I told him, "I am a mage though. That does make sense."

Peripherally, I saw him shake his head, "You can drink a potion and increase your mana stores but usually, mages don't just react to raw lyrium. You're no simple mage."

I sighed, misunderstanding his implication, "I'm not a demon, Fenris."

He snarled, "I know that!" Then he apologized, "Sorry. I was just going to tell you that there were…unique… magisters in Tevinter. They could create illusions, manipulate someone's mind, seduce without demons, create explosions from nothing, absorb mana and life… The potential is endless. They aren't just simple mages, they are something else but I forget what the name is."

Anders interrupted, "You mean, a sorceress? I thought those were just Ferelden legends."

Fenris encouraged, "Go on. Try and absorb that lyrium into yourself."

"How?" I asked incredulously.

I felt Anders approach me from behind, his hands upon my shoulders. Then his voice changed, "Do not be alarmed," it was deep and strict, the way a teacher might speak, "I am Justice."

I stuttered, "Er… alright?"

He ordered, "Close your eyes and breathe in, like you're trying to replenish your mana but breathing in lyrium. Recreate that feeling when your mana restores as you drink a potion."

It took a few tries but by the fourth try, I managed to absorb the small ball of red lyrium through my skin. My body pulsed involuntarily, jerked at the sudden intrusion of power and I gasped. "How?" I asked, "how is this possible?"

Anders returned to me, his voice sweet as he pulled my hand from the lyrium. He said, "We'll need to do some research but Justice believes you might share the blood of a sorceress. He believes that when you were injured, it must have triggered out dormant powers for survival purposes. You'll need to learn to control these powers though, they can be very dangerous."

So it had been survival. Not Carver. I felt disappointment swimming inside of me. He hadn't been here to save me. It was all just wishful thinking. Carver was simply the mirage before death. He hadn't known of my close brush with death. I felt my heart harden against my feelings. Alone. I was alone.

I dropped to the ground, feeling exhausted, tired and wanting to just curl up, forget who I was and forget the whole world. I asked with some reluctance, "How?"

Fenris stepped to me and offered his hand, "With our help of course."

I took it and he lifted me to my feet. Varric interrupted, "Look, I know this is some really important mage stuff but I think we really should move." He looked about with furtive glances, "I don't want anything else to attack us."

As we moved on, walking towards the other end of the grand hall, Varric complained absent-mindedly, "Those rock wraiths are supposed to be legends. They aren't even supposed to be real!"

I laughed mockingly, "Looked pretty real to me."

Then he pointed to what seemed like a small cave of glinting gold, "Well will you look at that? I guess it doesn't really matter what it was. Look at what it was _guarding_!"

The pile of coin, treasure, jewellery and locked chests did nothing to move me into a better mood. I shook my head, "I just want to see if there's anything that will get us out of here," as Anders rubbed my shoulders to comfort me. He didn't understand though, I sighed to myself, he didn't understand my heartache and disappointment. Carver. Why did it always come down to him? Why not another man? Why not Mikhail? Why not Alistair? Why not someone else? Why Carver? I clutched at my chest, wanting anything to just take my memories away. I needed him. I wanted him.

_I couldn't have him._

My consolation prize was a key, more gold and treasures than we could possibly carry. We took the best pieces and left the rest. I threw away my staff in favour of a more powerful one and I gestured for Anders to do the same. I was rich now, wasn't I? I should be happy. All the nobles of Kirkwall were happy with money. What was all this pesky emotion doing in my life anyway? I didn't want to feel anymore. Any emotion that was related to the heartache could go throw itself off a cliff, I thought desperately.

The key opened a huge double door, the kind that would lead us back to the surface but I knew the trip would be a long one. I asked Varric, "How long?"

He answered, "If we're unlucky? About a week."

"If we're lucky?" I prompted.

He sneered, "Then we trip over Bartrand's cold corpse along the way." I managed a laugh, awkward and unsure how to respond but we never did find his brother's body.

_Carver_

Mother tried to talk to me a lot during the weeks Hales was away but I kept shrugging her off. She would start a conversation and the moment Hales' name was mentioned, I told her, "Save it. Not talking about her right now. Can't deal with it."

To keep her at bay, I left the house before she woke and came home after I was sure she was asleep. I didn't want to talk or think about Hales. At all. So, I avoided the issue and the routine continued for a great deal many weeks.

It continued until Bartrand came back without Hales and the rest of her little group. Mother was horrified. We tried to ask Bartrand what happened. I had pushed him up against a wall to pry answers from him but he brushed had us off with vague answers, "They could still be alive. They got lost, locked behind a door. There are other ways out of there."

There was something about the dwarf that wasn't quite right though. I had shoved him up a wall and he was still too busy staring at his so-called treasure he found. It was like he didn't realize he was about to have his two front teeth knocked out. He was so entranced by that ugly, sparkly doll in his hand. I couldn't help a bad feeling from coming up. Something had gone wrong. Really wrong. Mother was ballistic, stressed and scared.

"Oh, my baby!" she sobbed to herself one night, "She's lost in the Deep Roads! What if she doesn't come home? What if she spends her days wandering around underground?"

The good thing that came from her wailing was that I realized that it wouldn't have mattered if Bethany had died in Lothering or if it had been Hales. Mother would have been equally as upset. The bad thing was that Mother had a point. Though I tried to comfort her by saying, "Oh you know how Hales is. She's tough. She'll be fine," I was worried.

Where was Hales? I knew enough about the Deep Roads to realize that there would be other ways out… but what if it took too long? What if they didn't find a route to the surface? What if she- No. I forced myself not to think about the image of her being injured or hurt or worse. I choked every time I imagined her body bruised or battered. My hands shook with fear and my chest clenched in on itself. And the last thing we had done was argue… Maker!

No, this was Hales. She was strong in magic. She was powerful and she was smart. She'd find a way out and it wasn't like she was alone. Varric, Anders and Fenris would still be with her. They would look after her. They _had _to.

And if… if Hales really was gone, Mother would still be here. I needed to stay strong for her, right? Like Hales did when Father died. I tried to say things that I knew would irritate her, just to get a reaction, "You know, it's nice to see you upset. I didn't know if you actually wanted Hales to die for Bethany or not. I didn't really understand your reaction. Both of them are your daughters. Just because Hales is older doesn't mean she hasn't had an equal share of your care."

Her worried ramblings froze and she looked at me, eyes narrowed in shrewd realization. She said to me, "You… still don't know, do you? You really don't know. She… never told me. Ever. Maker's Breath."

I raised my voice, demanding answers, "What are you talking about?"

She sighed, preoccupied upon another topic, "I've wanted to talk to you for a while about the two of you but you kept avoiding me the last few weeks."

I repeated again, "What are you talking about? This is about Hales, isn't it? What is she hiding from me?"

Mother raised a finger, gesturing for me to wait and went into her room. I heard shuffling and the rearranging of buckles, the opening and closing of the closet doors before she came out with an envelop. She handed it to me and said, "Your Father asked me to give this to you when I felt that the situation between the two of you became dire. I've never read it so I'm not entirely sure what it says but…"

"But what?" I shouted, the house empty aside from the two of us, my voice echoing and vibrating against the walls.

She said reluctantly, "Well, though you don't remember, Hales…" she teetered upon the words before spitting out, "She isn't your sister. She's adopted."

My world spun, what Mother was saying was crazy. What? Of course she was my – but no, maybe it made sense, maybe it wasn't so crazy.

Hales didn't look like the rest of us and she never felt like a sister to me. But how? Hadn't she been there my whole life? Adopted? When was she adopted?

My memories were a blur and I couldn't be certain. I _had_ memories of her… she was eleven… she was eight. I even remembered her at five but what about before? I searched my mind, trying to look for something, a clue or image of her at four or something.

My mind was blank. Empty.

Then an image came to me, uncertain and foggy, maybe like a dream I had imagined.

"_Hales," she said, "That's my name. H. A. L. E. S. Hay-Yells," she pronounced as Bethany stared up to her._

_Bethany lifted a chubby finger and pressed it against Hales' nose, gentle and curious. "Hales," she replied, seeming to understand that she had a duty to repeat the word._

"_I'm your sister," said Hales, "Sister. You're my sister, too. Baby sister."_

Hales had taught Bethany to say her name. Bethany was already four, wasn't she? She would have known Hales' name... was it a memory? A dream? Wishful thinking? Why hadn't I thought of this before? Why hadn't I remembered?

Why was Hales teaching Bethany how to say her name unless… she was new to the family? Hales was adopted. Of course, she was. Bethany would have known her name for years. She wouldn't have to learn a name at age four!

I stared at the envelop, thinking to myself, trying to consolidate and piece together a fact that suddenly seemed to undermine everything I knew about my life. And wasn't it funny that Hales was everything to me? And wasn't it funny that she was the one thing that could tear all of my beliefs down in one second? And didn't everything… bloody Andraste, didn't everything always come down to her?

All that guilt I had felt, for years, and she was bloody adopted! And she had to know. Of course, she did. Who wouldn't remember that they were adopted? She knew. Maker, she knew! It was like a fist aimed straight at my gut and I grasped at desperate thoughts, desperate reasons that maybe she didn't remember. Or maybe, she forgot. Or anything… no, Hales couldn't have known. I hadn't remembered, right? Maybe, just maybe, she didn't remember. The alternative was just too much for me to consider. If she knew, why? Why?

Why wouldn't she tell me? It would have made _everything_ so much easier!

_We would have worked out!_

Mother pushed me, "Stop thinking. Just read the letter first."

With shaking hands, I opened the envelop.

"To my son, Carver,

I apologize for the way you will receive this letter. I asked your Mother to give it to you only when she felt it was necessary. I hope you will forgive your Mother for keeping this from you for so long.

I find myself at a loss as to how to explain everything I want to say to you. I suppose that I should start at the beginning, maybe with why I chose your name.

A long time ago, when I was an apostate living in Kirkwall, a Templar helped me escape to Ferelden with your mother. He was a good friend, Ser Maurevar Carver, a man of honour, of trust and of skill. I chose this name for you because I hope that you will also be a man of honour, of trust and of skill. On top of that however, the main reason, is because Ser Carver gave me a future, a future that included you. To honour the past that gave me the future, I gave you the name Carver. I hope you will always think of your name as you live your life.

This morning, when I realized that my life was at its end, I spoke to Hales. I told her that Bethany was my sweet rosebud, a woman who would always be innocent and protected. In my mind, I believe that out of all of you, she is the only one who might live a simple life; a farm girl's life.

I told Hales that you were like an iron fist, a man of strength and impact. I believe that you will leave a number of craters on this world. As I live and breathe, the longer I do so, the more I believe that your name was aptly given. You are the only one of my three children that seeks to find a 'worthwhile' life and do 'worthwhile' deeds. I hope that you will always apply your skill thoughtfully in everything you do and most of all, I hope that you find worth and meaning within yourself first, before you worry about making those craters in the world.

As for Hales, she is my burning, fiery star and perhaps, it is just a prideful old man's wistful thinking but I do believe that she will make a mark on the world so deep that it might just last forever. She is also the one I worry the most about.

Whether you know this or not, whether or not Hales told you, it is about time you know the truth. Hales is not your sister. She was adopted. I found her in Redcliffe when she was five years old, abandoned by her true mother for being a mage. Yet, she blended so seamlessly into our family, both your Mother and I learned to love her deeply only after a few days of knowing her. She became our daughter just as you are my son.

In your memories, you don't remember Hales being adopted. There is a blurry belief in your mind that she has been there all your life. That is my fault. Though she blended seamlessly into the family, she was still a stranger to both you and Bethany.

For a while, both you and Bethany were at a loss as to how to treat a stranger to the family. I was afraid for Hales, afraid that she might feel rejected and do something silly. To help ease the transition, I cast a spell over you and Bethany, a spell that would blur out the memory of her sudden addition into our lives. I know you don't remember her adoption. To you, a lot of things about her are blurry but there's just a belief that she was always a part of the family. Yes, that is the spell's doing.

I know that you must be shocked or at the very least, surprised but I ask that you think for a moment. Have you ever felt like her brother? If you say yes, then I know you are lying for I've seen the looks you've given her, heard enough conversations between the two of you when you snuck out of the house late at night, thinking that your Mother and I wouldn't know. And think back through your memories. Do you remember her as a toddler? Do you remember her when she was age three or four? You don't.

You feel for her differently. Bethany doesn't suspect anything and she goes about her everyday as she always has but the same cannot be said of you. A part of you recognizes that Hales isn't family. It is the only explanation for your feelings towards her. The spell must not have worked properly in your mind or maybe your mind is simply too strong for such idle manipulations. I cannot be certain.

I know that you must be feeling very confused because nothing of her adoption has ever been mentioned over the years. I believe this is why I feel so concerned. Hales has never spoken to me or her mother about her past. We know nothing about who her mother is or about her old life. She has never offered information. We know that whatever happened, it has hurt her very deeply but it is a topic that she has completely closed off and neither I nor your Mother could ever bring ourselves to question her, to bring back a hurt that she has tried very hard to close off.

I worry about her though. I believe her past will come back to haunt her one day and she keeps too many secrets to maintain a healthy mind and heart. Her life is a secret. Her past is a secret and she keeps her pain locked away – a secret. So much about her is a secret. She takes on the burdens of life and rarely shares them. If I were to be honest, I think I am very afraid for her.

It is my regret that I will never be able to unravel her past and help her heal but I know you can. Out of all of us, you are the only one that has ever truly gotten to her, opening her heart, if just a little. She is happy when she is with you but I fear that the ugliness of the world will change her, harden her heart and damage her spirit.

If one day, you decide to be with her and look after her, then know that you have my support. The road to that happy ending may be long, arduous and rough but if you are willing to see it through, I support your decision.

However, I also know enough about you, my son, to know that you are probably extremely upset with Hales for she remembers all of it. I have never attempted to erase her memories or change her perceptions. I have never tried but even were I to attempt such a feat, I don't believe I would be successful. She is strong in magic. Even at five, she was stronger in magic than she had any right to be. I suspect that her lineage is more complicated than it seems but tracing her ancestry might be moot point. She didn't seem to know who her Father was.

I hope that one day, your anger will dissolve. You can't be angry with her forever. If that one day comes that you fully understand her heartaches, you won't be able to stay angry. Trust me. A Father knows these things. I know that you are the only one who opens her heart but I also see the opposite end. She was always the only one who seemed to be able to get through to you, to make you understand the world better, even to make you grow up. Your experiences with her and Peaches was a good example of that.

In the end, however, no matter what you wish to do in life, no matter how you choose to live your life and no matter who you choose to share your life with, I simply want you to know that I am watching from above and that I love you, very much so.

Dear boy, I hope you find what you are looking for, whether it is that worthwhile task or worthwhile life but most of all, I simply hope you find worth in yourself.

You are stronger than you believe, smarter than you think and better than you know.

I love you, son.

Father"

She had known. I felt the world dip beneath my feet. I felt anger rip right through my body.

That little chit _lied_ to me. She promised that she wouldn't hide things from me and she had! The most important detail that would have led to _us_ actually working out and she _never told me_!

Then I yelled at Mother, "Why?" I shouted, "Why did Father erase my memories like that? Why did he blur out her adoption? What gave you that right?"

Mother stared at me with something akin to confusion in her eyes. I thrust the letter to her and her eyes scanned through the message. My body burned with the need to strangle something, to hit something, just to vent out.

When she sank into her chair, at a complete loss for words aside from, "He never told me," I wasn't comforted. I just wanted to scream out even more.

Mother hadn't known and Father was dead! I felt even more frustrated because I needed to lay blame to someone and apparently, it couldn't be laid at my parents' feet!

Hales! That chit! That lying, conniving, scheming, malicious, devious, underhanded piece of – But no, my mind couldn't even finish off that sentence. I rampaged through Darktown at night, searching for trouble, slavers to kill, anything that would relieve my body of the tension, of the anger, of the hate.

That was all I did for two days. I wallowed in fury, inhaled rage and exhaled revulsion. I was covered in blood, unable to feel hunger, unable to feel anything, unable to think of anything, of anyone apart from Hales.

I sank upon the dirty Darktown ground and the anger fell away. All that was left was hurt. I ached all over and not from the use of my limbs. My chest was tight, I found it hard to breathe and the heartache sank right to my toes, making them curl, rippled to my fingertips, making my palms itch and tingle. Why didn't she tell me? Didn't she want me? Nothing made sense.

In Lothering, she used to lie in my arms. She used to kiss me, she used to enjoy it. I know she did. Even when we fought, even that night on the roof of Gamlen's house, she wanted me. It wasn't my wishful illusions. She had said a lot of things that night but her body couldn't lie and neither could her eyes. For a moment there, she very nearly succumbed to me. Her eyes had glazed over for a moment before she became aware of the situation.

Didn't she think I had the right to know? What drove her to keep something so big from me? What happened to her?

I knew the answer. She had been abandoned. But how? Why? There were so many unanswered questions.

And suddenly, I felt defeated. Overcome. Crushed. Beaten.

I didn't want to know anymore. I needed to get away, make something of my life that didn't revolve around Hales. I needed something worthwhile. Like Father wanted. Like I had always wanted before I got mixed up with all this emotional blundering around with _her_. I had spent so long waiting and waiting, searching for answers, thinking that a way or another, she and I would be together but it wasn't like that!

Every answer I had begged more questions and I was tired. How long would I have to fight before everything made sense again?

I didn't want to care anymore. I didn't want to know anymore.

And Father's words… It was as though I could feel him beside me, a hand on my head, telling me not to be impulsive or brash, to think carefully. I closed my eyes and it was almost like he hadn't died at all. But he wasn't here. He couldn't tell me what to do. I was on my own. Alone.

And I had to get away.

Worthwhile… what was worthwhile? What would give me the meaning and reason in my life? All I could think of was Hales, Hales, Hales, over and over, repeating constantly in my mind. She was everything. Everything. Always.

The Templars were recruiting. I could be a Templar. I could take up after my namesake. I would be away from her but I could protect her at the same time. If she ever made it home, I would leave.

I could only hope that Father would be proud.

_Hales_

Five days later, we were in Kirkwall. I couldn't believe how relieved I was just to breathe in the polluted, city air.

"Home, sweet home. Finally. I wonder if Bartrand came back to the city. You think I'd be that lucky?" Varric asked me near Kirkwall's gates.

I joked wryly, "Luck hasn't exactly been our strong point." I felt broken and even my spirit was a little dampened by everything we had experienced in the Deep Roads.

"This is true." Varric looked down at his feet, evidently distraught, "I'm sorry about Bartrand's betrayal. I should have seen it coming." He slammed his fist into his palm, "I'll find that maggot if it's the last thing I do."

I patted him on the shoulder, saying whatever obligatory words I could grab from thin air, "Get some rest first. You can plan your revenge later. After all," I reminded, "Revenge is a dish that's best served cold." I comforted, "At least you found some treasure… it wasn't all for nothing."

Inside, I wasn't sure I agreed. Though I wanted to pretend that I cared only for material goods, a part of me truly regretted the experience. Hiding in Lowtown with Carver – No. I wasn't going to think about him. I wasn't going to go through the disappointment again. I wasn't going to go through the _pain_ again.

He managed a smile for me, "And you're now a wealthy woman, Hawke. You can hide in plain sight from the Templars. I'm sure your Mother and Carver will be pleased. Let's drop you home first. I want to see if your brother knows anything about Bartrand."

I fiddled with my necklace. Carver. And didn't everything always come back to him. Anders offered, seeing my expression, "You have to face him sooner or later, sunshine."

Outside my house, I heard shouting. I froze, recognizing Mother's voice and Carver's voice. I nearly turned to leave but Fenris pushed me in through the door. I tripped with a loud thump and both Mother and Carver turned their heads to me. I stared at him. Here was my mirage. Thick, dark hair and bright blue eyes. Then my eyes fell upon the rest of him.

A Templar's armour! I gaped.

"So you're back," he sneered, evidently still unhappy with my not taking him with me to the expedition.

I sighed with exhaustion, distracted by his words, "Don't start, Carver. I nearly died down there. Bartrand locked us into one section of the thaig and –"

Mother gasped in horror, "He tried to kill you!"

Varric quipped unhelpfully, "Yup but we got the treasure so for now, until I find the bastard, we're even."

Anders elaborated, "And then there were the rock wraiths and the demon but luckily Hales –"

I nudged him in the ribs to stop him from speaking. I didn't want to think about that but Carver's eyes narrowed at me and I knew he saw my motions for he sneered, "More secrets, _sister_?"

I cringed. I wanted him. I wanted comfort. I wanted his arms wrapped around me. No, I wasn't going to get that. I had to stay strong. I had to be independent. I asked instead, "Carver, what are you wearing?"

Gamlen took the cue to leave, "I'm going out for a drink. You lot sort yourselves out."

We ignored him and Mother nodded, "Yes! Maker, talk some sense into him."

Carver's voice was rough but even the sound warmed me to my bones, though the content filled me with dread, "I've joined the Templar Order. There's no point in trying to talk me out of it; it's done."

There was no talking him out of it. I could see the conviction in his eyes. I murmured, the words out of my mouth before I had even thought it through, "This isn't like being a knight. Are you sure this is wise?"

"I know that!" he spat at me, "I'm not an idiot!"

I shrugged in defeat, he was leaving. Yet the words that slipped out weren't even slightly pleasant, "What did you think I'd say, Carver? Last I heard, you thought all Templars were colossal prigs! Do you actually want to be a Templar?"

He told me, "I want to be someone, more than just your bloody brother. This is my chance."

And of all the things I could have said to him, of all the choices in the world to beg him to stay or to make him think again, I ended up saying the most self-centred thing on the face of Thedas, "You realize you would be related to an apostate, right?"

Why did I say that?

Because you can't be with him, stupid.

Carver's voice grew loud, "I want to be someone. Like Father and I both wanted." Then he looked at me evenly, "You don't need to worry about me turning you in. I _know_ the value of family."

"Carver, please!" Mother begged, "The Order is so dangerous!"

"I'll be fine, Mother", he said to her with gentle tones, "You don't need to worry about me."

I nodded, "If this is what you truly want, I can't say any more."

He just stared at me. I couldn't believe I said that. Why did I say that?

The little voice repeated inside me like a monotonous drone – You can't be with him, stupid!

Why didn't I feel relieved? He was going. There would be no relationship. There would be no more forbidden touches. Wasn't this a good thing? It was supposed to be.

So why was my heart breaking in my chest? I could feel it squeezing, all that pressure pushing inside of me. I kept it in, all of the pain, off my face. There was a lump growing in my neck, constricting my throat and tears were burning behind my eyes. I could feel the blaze of hot liquid upon the insides of my eyes.

I swallowed hard, trying to make the pain ease. Breath, I told myself. Breathe. It was so difficult, too difficult. I had to do it. This was what was right. For Mother. For societal expectations. Anything.

For the fact that I was too much of a coward to beg him to stay.

Carver nodded at me, "There's just one more thing," he said, his voice even and neutral, almost curious. He stepped up to me until we were practically nose to nose and the feeling of heartbreak only grew. I managed only a nod and he asked, "Were you ever going to share any of your secrets?"

I blinked, not entirely certain what he was getting at. He elaborated, "Would you ever share your secrets with me? Like whatever you're hiding with Anders?"

I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. I lied through my teeth, "Eventually, I suppose. At the moment, we don't really know what's going on. A lot of research is required."

There was a glint of something savage in his eyes. Danger, my mind screamed before he asked me, "So were you ever going to tell me that you _weren't _actually my sister?"

Varric yelled out in surprise but my breath froze. My face paled, I could feel the blood rushing out of my face. How did he know? How could he know? Mother? I looked to Mother's guilty face and knew my answer. My mouth fell open, too caught unawares to actually reply to him.

He shook his head, laughing in self-deprecation and utter defeat, "Of course you weren't. I can see it in your face."

"Carver, I-"

"Save it." He snarled whilst ripping a gauntlet off his right hand, "It's done. We're done."

He grabbed me, his uncovered hand cupping the back of my neck and his other arm wrapped around my waist as his mouth fused with mine. It was a brutal and bruising kiss, heated and almost hateful. My hands went to his chest-plate, planning on pushing him away but my limbs wouldn't cooperate. Nothing was working.

It was our first kiss, our first real kiss and he chose to punish me with it. Still, I melted against him. I needed this. When his tongue probed at my lips, my mouth parted with a soft whimper. How I had longed for this. My lips responded to his, turning my head just a little so I could taste him even more deeply but he only nipped my bottom lip in warning. I nearly cried out.

Then it changed. It was like his punishment was over. His lips left mine for a second and our eyes locked… and his eyes, Carver's eyes… they were the perfect crystal clear blue. I forgot the world as he nudged his nose against mine intimately, friendly, comfortingly. Dimly, I heard a thump behind me as he dropped the spare gauntlet so he could hold me closer.

Yes, he held me closer and just as tightly but instead of captivity, it was coaxing. His hand threaded deep into my hair and my arms were around his neck. Our lips met again and the kiss turned soft, gentle, cajoling me for my responses. My knees felt weak and he took my weight, supporting me with his own body, strong against my own. When his tongue touched mine, I quivered and he groaned softly into the kiss, feeling my reaction. I tickled him with the tip of my tongue and this time, he allowed it, encouraging me by sliding his hand lower towards the small of my back.

Surely, he wouldn't leave now. Surely, he would want to stay. I felt the brief glimmers of hope touch me.

Carver pulled away suddenly, stepping back like he was barely affected. His uncovered hand grazed my cheek as he murmured, "Goodbye Hales. I hope-", he broke off for a moment, staring into my eyes with shades of nostalgia and conflicted affection; "I hope you find what you're looking for."

And just like that, he stalked out of the house leaving behind a gauntlet by my feet and the memories of his kisses on my mouth. I looked towards my companions and Mother, each of them had the expressions of a gaping fish. It was too much.

Goodbye. Goodbye. The word echoed in my mind. The flash of hope I had briefly felt was suddenly shut down, wiped away from my life. It died, rough, quick and harsh, as easily as two fingers pressed along a burning wick.

Goodbye. The world around me spun. The colours whirled together into pools of rainbow shades and brightness. Light from the window. Dark shadows on the floor. Browns of the house. Blues of Anders' robes.

I stumbled. I heard the strange echoing of sounds and voices about me.

I felt the hard floor beneath my ribs.

I closed my eyes and gave up.

Maker, take me away.

Darkness.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry for how long it took to update. Unfortunately, university work has called my name and I had to put down my writing for a while. As an apology, this chapter was extra long! I hope to update again soon.

Once again, a shout-out for Mistress Vo who helped me edit my work.

Please R&R! I would really like to get your opinion of how heart-breaking this chapter was for anyone who read it!

Love, Ann


	9. Secret Apostate

**Chapter 9 – Secret Apostate**

_Hales_

My eyes fluttered open, sunlight shining in from the window. Sunlight. I was home. A rush of images overwhelmed me. Home. Carver. Templar armour. His kiss. I had fainted, I realized.

I groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over my head. I wasn't ready to deal with reality just yet. I heard some shuffling and a concerned, dulcet voice echoing, "You're awake."

I threw the covers off my face and looked towards Anders, sitting upon a rickety stool a few feet from my bed. I found a smile making its way to my face and murmured quietly, "Please don't tell me you've been watching me sleep when you need rest yourself."

Honey brown eyes gleamed warmly despite the lack of smile on his face, "No. Once I made sure you were fine, I went back to the clinic. I've been coming around to check up on you everyday."

I rose from the bed, my movements slow and jerky as my joints popped, stiff from a lack of use. I rolled my shoulder and repeated, "Every day? How long have I been asleep for?"

"Two days, more or less. Your body just needed rest," his hands rested upon my shoulders, streams of mana flowing into my body to check my condition, "You aren't sick or injured or anything."

Physically, I was fine. I felt fine. I didn't even feel slightly lethargic. But mentally… My mind was a mess, a whirl of incoherent thoughts and feelings that didn't make sense. All I could think of was how he had kissed me and then walked away afterwards.

I muttered dumbly, "He kissed me."

Anders sat upon the edge of the bed, sighing out in concern, "I know. I saw. Are you alright, Hales?"

I shook my head, "No but I will be." I was always alright. I would always _be _alright. After all, _I_ was all that I really had. If I wasn't alright, what would be? He was gone now, a part of my life that had once again, abandoned me. Or maybe, I had abandoned him. Was it my way of hurting the world after all the damage it had done to me?

He revealed, with some reluctance, "Varric's been telling anyone who will listen about Carver kissing you."

I made a noise of discontent, "Really? What does he know? What has he been telling everyone?" I asked with dread in my voice.

Anders managed a light laugh, "You know how he is. This is Varric. He estimates and guesses. Where that fails, he embellishes and makes things up. The story has been dramatized and I've stopped listening to it but it can be reduced to about three lines. One, you're not really a Hawke. Two, Carver kissed you, and in a less than brotherly fashion, no less. Three, you fainted afterwards."

"Maker's Breath," I complained, "Kill me."

He snickered, "Something like that. Isabela's basically gone nuts and the entire group has a lot of questions for you."

I felt the sizzling rush of irritation slice to my core. I didn't have to put up with this! These were _my _secrets! _My_ past! I didn't want to answer questions! It wasn't anyone's business but _mine! _Mine!

My conversations with Mother didn't help me feel any better about the situation. I had confronted her, despite knowing the answer, "How did Carver find out?"

"I told him," she had sighed, "but your Father had left a letter for him as well. There was mention of your adoption in there too."

The latter part had not been known to me, "A letter?"

She nodded, "Explaining all the things we should have thought about but never had."

Frustrated, I snarled out, "What are you talking about?"

She tilted her head, eyes slanted towards me, "Didn't you ever find it strange that Carver always thought you were his sister? You were five when you came to us. Five."

I understood her implication; it was a question I had peripherally thought about. Why hadn't Carver remembered my adoption? She gestured, "Malcolm had blurred out their memories, both Carver and Bethany's. They wouldn't remember your sudden addition, just simply believed that you were always a part of the family. I imagine, Malcolm wanted a seamless transition for you. He never told me. It was a shock to find out. Still, Carver's mind didn't seem to accept the blurring as well as Bethany and perhaps, that's where his feelings stem from." Mother seemed tired towards the end of her speech.

I didn't have the heart to shout at her, but I accused, "Why didn't you just leave it be? Father had already done that… why?" My voice became progressively louder, "Damn it!" I cursed, "Why? Why did you tell him? Why couldn't you have left it alone?" I nearly shouted at her.

She pressed her hands on my shoulder, pushing me into a chair. When she sat opposite me, she said, "He had the right to know! He deserved to know what he was getting himself into!" Mother hurled her words at me, her voice shrill and defensively but defiant, "He deserved to know, Hales! All these secrets you keep, all these distances you try to hold and control, all those burdens! He deserved to know! He deserved to share those burdens with you! He -"

I didn't let her get a word in, continually throwing the pain I had in my chest, venting it out upon my Mother, "And what about Carver? What does he understand out of all this? He doesn't know what the consequences are! He's not mature enough to deal with the backlash, the rumours, the pressures upon our family!"

"You're not helping him by coddling him!" she cried out.

I laughed mockingly, "Seriously? You're going to give me a line like that when _you_ didn't even _want_ us together? I heard you talking to Carver on the boat! I heard your _disapproval, _I remember it like you were just telling him thirty seconds ago!" I began to shout, "You want me to suddenly jump upon the bandwagon of 'let's pair Hales up with Carver' when all this time, you've _hated _it?"

I ended the shouting match out of breath and panting, my chest heaving violently with all the emotions I was feeling. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. Pain. Heartache. Loss. How I missed him…

Mother's voice was weak, tired and defeated, "I never hated it," but underlying all that, was a strange tone of fear that I had never heard in her voice before.

"Malcolm always knew, you know. He always believed in the two of you. He used to tell me that Carver was the only one who could open your heart, if only a little, and you were the only one who could temper Carver's flaws, make him see the world as it was instead of being surly everyday."

Father… The mention of him made tears burn my eyes, blur my vision and singe my cheeks. He had always understood. Always. Even when I didn't want him to, he understood. Even where he didn't know my secrets, he understood. And I could never hide anything from him, not really. Certainly not my feelings.

Mother stared out the window, "When he died, I knew you were hurting but I just didn't know how to deal with it. All these years, I've wanted to know your past. All these years, I've been afraid to ask, too scared of what the answer might be, too afraid to hurt you again. Too afraid it would push you away. Malcolm should have pushed," her words became breathy, "_I_ should have pushed. When Bethany died, you were a wreck and I should have been there to comfort you. I wasn't. In some ways, I've been a failure of a Mother."

I tried to interject but she shook her head at me, "You thought I hated you for not dying. Carver thought much the same. It was never like that. I do love you, Hales, but I've just never had the capabilities to truly look after you. You never needed it."

"Of course, I did." I told her, "Both you and Father gave me a family, one I had never truly known."

"Yes. We did. But it wasn't the same for you as it was for Carver and Bethany." Her fingers grazed my cheeks, eyes faraway, "You enjoyed us, you loved us, you cherished us but not because it was a given. You were never one to take things for granted. You treasured us because you knew you could lose it all and you made yourself strong because you knew that if you needed it but lost it, it would end you."

And there it was, the truth of the matter sitting right before me. How I hated that feeling of being abandoned. How I hated it but oh, how I seemed to constantly find myself within it, wallowing away. Mother almost managed a smile, "All those secrets, my heart. All those burdens. When will you let go of them? When will you share them and allow yourself to heal?"

I managed a weak, "I'm fine. Really."

She kissed my forehead briefly, "You love very deeply but when will you let yourself be loved?"

Loved? I was loved. Mother loved me. Father had loved me. Bethany had loved me. Carver… he had… he had loved me, hadn't he? I _was_ loved. Still, it felt like a concept was eluding me, just short of my reach. What did she really mean?

In the end, I found myself in the Chantry almost every afternoon, sitting on the benches to try and find some peace within the turmoil that I felt. I needed someone to talk to but there wasn't anyone I really trusted. I didn't want to tell my friends the truth. I trusted in Fenris and Anders but Fenris was hardly the man to go to for such matters and Anders was always so busy. It didn't seem right to bother them.

"Hello, Hawke."

And there was my answer.

I smiled, instantly recognizing the voice though it had been quite the while since I had heard the ring of brogue. After all, I had helped him kill an entire band of mercenaries. Without even turning, I answered lightly, "Hello, Sebastian. How are you?"

He sat beside me, armour gleaming white and gold, copper coloured hair glinting in the evening torchlight of the halls. Deep blue eyes looked into my own and he answered with a weary sigh, "I am well. I could be better but… I could certainly be worse."

I looked to him for elaboration and he shrugged, "I want to claim my land but I need help to reclaim Starkhaven. I can't find anyone willing to help me. It feels like a futile effort but it seems to be the only right thing to do."

"I'm sorry to hear that, my friend," I said gently.

His smile was peaceful and comforting, "But I did not come here to burden you with my problems but to share yours. You helped me once. Let me return that favour."

I laughed, self-deprecating and miserable, "You're only asking for trouble."

"Come now," he said with a hand upon my arm, "you will feel better afterwards. You can trust me, Hawke."

If I couldn't trust a Brother of the Chantry, who could I trust? And because I honestly didn't know what else to do, I ended up telling him everything. It was as though I could keep nothing in. Carver's kisses… it had unlocked something. Whether it was his actions that had put into motion a series of questions that I could no longer evade or whether it was simply my inability to suppress my emotions any longer, I couldn't be sure but he had unlocked something.

I began, "You…You know I am an apostate, yes?"

Sebastian gave a wry smile, "The staff on your back wasn't a big enough hint?" he asked in rhetoric.

"Well, I was abandoned when I was a little girl and adopted into the Hawke family," I tried slowly. Each word was hard to pronounce, like a defensive mechanism within me was trying to stop my words but with each one, it became profoundly easier.

"Yes… I've been hearing something like that from the dwarf you run around with," Sebastian commented, "Something about how you are adopted and something about being kissed."

I groaned and slapped my face, "Varric," I said his name like an expletive.

To veer us back on track, Sebastian asked, "Were you abandoned because of your powers?"

With reluctance, I nodded, "My Mother, my real Mother, was dressing me and I lifted a hairclip into the air without thinking. I remember how her face had turned green, she had gasped in horror but at the time, I was a child and I thought she would come to grips with it. She took me to the markets and left me by a wagon. She never came back for me."

"Do… Do you remember the rest of your family?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I never had a Father. I had a half-brother and," I smiled at the thought of tousled brown hair, dimples and a boyish grin, "I loved him. He was all I had in the first five years of my life. When night fell the day she abandoned me, I walked around for hours and got lost. My Father, Malcolm Hawke, found me. He took me home and I was a part of the family after that."

I fell silent for a while, the both of us listening to the sounds of Sisters idling about as I murmured quietly, "I miss him. Alistair. My half-brother. He loved me, looked after me, did things to make me happy. It was so easy to be with him. I didn't need a Mother. I didn't care for one. I just needed him. He's the one person I regret leaving behind."

Sebastian's words were equally hushed to comfort me, "You weren't given a choice…"

"I moved on… or at least, I thought I did. I loved Alistair but… I knew I had to let go of the past. In some ways though, I think he was the only one who truly understood me. Maybe it was because I didn't know what it was like to be abandoned prior to that point. But afterwards, I had new parents, new siblings to love. It could have been so simple," I nearly whimpered, "So simple. But feelings had to get in the way."

"Feelings?" he prompted.

"Carver… He was supposed to be my adopted brother but… there was attraction there, between us," I admitted, wincing as I waited for the preaching.

It never came. I looked up and his face was impartial. When the silence reigned on, he eventually told me, "You're adopted. There is no sin committed here."

I sighed, "Not entirely true. You see, Carver didn't ever seem to remember my adoption. I never really questioned it but the truth came out recently that my Father had blurred out his memories to make my addition into the family seamless. He was supposed to believe that I had been a part of his life all along…"

Sebastian shrugged, no judgement in his voice, "Evidently, something didn't go as planned. He must have known or his mind subconsciously recognized that you were not truly his sister."

Yes, he was right. Evidently, that had been the case. It didn't stop the story from becoming any less tragic. The memories of warm cuddles, soft grass, gentle breezes and long nights filled my mind and for a moment, I could almost smell the scent of Ferelden summer rains. "We had a short time together," my voice carried off wistfully, "where we were free to be as we wished late in the night." I smiled, "We would sneak out to the front gardens, stay there late into the night and talk about everything. The whole world. He would hold me and give me chaste kisses. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough but I…" I trailed off.

"You were content to let it be," he answered, "and so you never told him about your adoption, did you?" he asked knowingly.

"No, I never did."

"Why not?"

"Consciously, I knew that we wouldn't be accepted. No one knew I was adopted. We would be seen as freaks. It wasn't right… but…" I sighed then shrugged, "I'm not even sure. Over time, it became clear that Carver wanted to be with me but he didn't truly understand the consequences. I tried to push him away."

Part of it was also fear. Fear of the unknown. I had only ever told one person I was adopted, Mikhail, and even at that point, I was afraid to tell him more. The problem wasn't really just my Mother or society. It was a portion of it, but not everything.

I crossed my arms over my chest and revealed, "Then Carver went to help the Ferelden army with the Blight. Then Father died. That was… the beginning of when things had taken a turn for the worse. Mother was a wreck and Bethany was a mess. Both of them needed me. I felt alone but I had Carver. I went to visit him and he gave me a necklace."

I thumbed the silver chain, showing him the crystal amulet, "It was for my eighteenth birthday. I promised him I would never take it off. They are the same shade as his eyes," I murmured.

What if I had told him? What if he knew my weaknesses? What if he knew my pain? What if he abandoned me? Of course, I knew it didn't even make sense. Carver was hardly polite but he wasn't a hurtful or cruel man. If he knew of my being abandoned, he would never attempt to hurt me with that but there was fear there. What if? There were so many of those 'what if' questions that lingered. I tried to push the thoughts away.

As I wound my fingers through the chain, I told him, "Bethany died when our family left for Kirkwall to flee the Blight. I thought Mother hated me for not dying. A part of me probably thought it was because I was adopted. Carver helped me grieve but he still didn't understand. He just … didn't get it. Mother confronted him about us and I heard her disapproval whilst we were on route to Kirkwall by ship. I thought she hated me. I thought she wouldn't want me to sully the only child she had left."

Somehow, my face had found a spot upon his shoulder and his arm wrapped tightly around my back. He encouraged, "Tell me more."

"Our Uncle Gamlen had managed to smuggle us into Kirkwall by bribing the guards and we were to pay off the debt. I stayed away from home a whole year, kept my distance from Carver. I ended things with him. But when that year was up…" I looked up into Sebastian's face, my expression screwed up, he answered for me, "You went home and it was like nothing had changed."

I nodded, "At first, we were a little argumentative. Then it was like we picked up where we left off. We trespassed into the old Amell home, slaver territory, to find Mother's will. We were back to back, fighting and laughing together, drunk on adrenaline and foolish bravery. And the more time we spent together, the closer we became. It was so easy to be with him. I loved it. I hated it. The night before our expedition into the Deep Roads, the tension was growing again and it became too much. I threw nasty words at him to keep him at bay. It was awful."

Sighing, I closed my eyes, "I wanted to be with him. We were on the rooftop, him lying across me and I wanted nothing more than to stay right there with him. But there were so many things on my mind, so many reasons not to succumb to the temptation… I pushed him away."

Sebastian comforted, "You tried your best to do what you thought was right but… sometimes, it isn't as simple as it seems. Right and wrong can be hard to define sometimes. You cannot attempt to control everything. Carver… he has responsibility to think for himself, to learn from the situation _and,_" he added with some emphasis, "to look after you as well."

Look after me? That was what I was afraid of. Carver was the kind of man that wrested control from me so easily. In a moment, I would be with him, completely at ease, unable to remember what was right and wrong, utterly surrendered to his love and touch. Could I afford that kind of insensibility? My heart was foolish and impulsive. My mind was smart and strategic. I would be a woman led by my head rather than the heart.

The potential consequences of heartbreak were just too severe. There was too much at stake. My heart, my life…

"I owe the Hawke family everything. It didn't seem right to take so much," I said mechanically, beginning to see that it was never as simple as owing the family.

"I can see that you feel an obligation to your family," he commented.

"I didn't end up taking Carver with me. I went without him. Anders and Fenris somehow realized I was adopted and spoke to me of it. Aside from that, the only thing of note in the Deep Roads was that I nearly died. And in that moment, all I could think of was Carver. I thought I could hear his voice in my ear, his arms keeping me safe. It was all a mirage," I cried out, "such a disappointing mirage."

Sebastian frowned in confusion and I explained, "We met all sorts of creatures in the Deep Roads. We fought demons, rock wraiths and other such monstrosities. I survived because I can absorb lyrium and somehow, I healed myself. I don't know anything yet. It's something I need to talk to Anders about."

"Does Carver know?"

I shook my head, "I know so little. I couldn't tell him. I didn't want to risk telling him the wrong thing. When I got back, Carver became a Templar. I was in the doorway and he was… on his way out, maybe. I can't be sure. He had found out from Mother and a letter from Father that I was adopted. He was upset and he…"

Sebastian supplied, "He kissed you."

I nodded, "He punished me with his kiss and I still felt like all was right in the world. I hate how much I need him. And yet, all the words I could have said to make him stay never came out. I just ended up pushing him away. The pain though… it doesn't go away."

He had frowned in response, "Now he's just impolite."

I laughed a little, "Carver isn't polite but… he wasn't rough all the way. Towards the end, he was… almost gentle… like he wanted to kiss me," I blushed, "Sorry."

Sebastian had grinned, a sparkle twinkling in his eye, the only token left of a more ostentatious past, "There's very little you could say that would truly faze me. I do take confessions, Hawke."

"Hales… Please, call me Hales," I told him, "I appreciate the thought but that got personal. I didn't want to seem like –"

He placed a hand up to stem my protests, royal in his gait, "You meant well. You weren't trying to be uncouth. That is enough."

"And now," I gave a significant shake of my hair, "the whole world wants to know." I mimicked a gossiper, "What's going on with Hawke? Oh Maker! She kissed her own brother?"

Sebastian laughed, "Hales, the more you evade, the more they will gossip. If you want to stop someone from talking about you, the best way is to confront. Don't hide away."

There was something about him, something wise and uncommon. Royal in every way despite being a Brother in the Chantry. I praised, "You really are every bit the Prince, aren't you?"

He quipped, "Wasn't always that way."

I shrugged, "It isn't just like that though. I found out from Mother that she doesn't actually mind if we're together, it seems. It all just seems for naught. She asked me when I was going to let myself be loved. I just don't understand. I know I'm loved."

Sebastian tilted his head, "It isn't like that. To allow yourself to be loved is to be understood, to share burdens, to speak freely, to have your guard down. Someone can love you for who you are but you don't let yourself be loved until it can touch your heart. You won't let Carver love you until you let him understand your heartaches."

We spoke through the evening and into the night. Sebastian told me his entire life story, how he was the third son of a royal family and lacking in love and attention. To make up for it, he rebelled, gambled, whored and drank. Eventually, he got sent to the Chantry and from there, learned how to be a true gentleman. I joked, "Isabela would have _loved_ you a long time ago."

He clapped me on the shoulder and responded, "Too bad that feeling isn't mutual any more."

And just like, we became very close friends almost overnight. Very late into that night, he said to me, "The streets are dangerous. I'll walk you home."

I had felt lighter than I had in a very longer time and laughed, genuine and real, "You do know you're talking to an equally dangerous apostate, right?"

His only answer was to offer his hand and take me home. At my doorstep, I kissed his cheek in platonic fashion and he advised, "I know you're trying to take back the Amell estate. For now, you can focus on that. When that's over and done with, you should face your friends. They deserve the truth, too." He grinned, "I'll even let you blame your absence on me."

I asked him, "Why are you being so kind to me?"

Sebastian stared at me with dark sapphire eyes, so different to those that Carver had and told me, "Because I understand. We were abandoned by the people who bore us but found love in another family. We hurt and we each have our past, but most of all, because I see a lot of me in you. We're very similar." Then he smiled, "The only difference is that eventually, I let someone in, let them understand my pain. Have you ever let anyone in? You haven't."

I said defensively, "All of them, they mean something to me. I care about them very much and I trust them with my life and almost every part of me."

"What about of your past? Are they a part of that?" he asked.

I shrugged, admitting to him, "No, but I don't want to share that. I just feel like I'm constantly in a cycle between being abandoned, growing stronger then feeling hurt and growing stronger then more heartache comes and trying to move past that because there isn't anything left to do. I feel… so tired. I don't want to keep thinking about it."

"But you will until Carver knows."

"He is a Templar now. It is too late for us."

I wanted it to be too late for us. It would mean that I would never have to worry about what it would be like to so thoroughly lose control of myself and my life. When I had been abandoned, I never had a say in the matter. I was too young, my mental faculties undeveloped and I never had the power to choose for myself.

It was different now. I could prevent myself from being in that position of vulnerability again and no one, not even Carver, would be given that power over me such that I would feel such pain ever again.

It was a bit of a lie, of course. Whether with or without Carver, my heart always ached. When he was around, I was scared of him, keeping him at an arm's length when all I wanted to do was throw myself at him. When he wasn't around, I missed him, worried for him, felt relieved that the temptation was no longer posed before me but felt helpless with the need to see him.

Still, I had a lot to think about after that. Sebastian had a point. Trusting someone with who I was meant every part of me. Not just a conveniently picked portion. I tried first with Mother. We were waiting for an audience with the Viscount, sitting in the Seneschal's office. I said with some abruptness, "I still remember that day I was abandoned in Redcliffe."

She gaped at me, surprised that I had finally spoken about my past, "I – You- I'm not surprised really. You were already five."

I was calm, finally ready to tell my Mother what had happened, "I never knew who my Father was. I had never seen him. My life was to stay quiet, stay unseen and I very rarely saw my real mother. Some days, she remembered me. Other days, it was like I never even existed."

I heard Mother sniffle, her eyes slowly becoming unfocused and glassy. She whispered, "I suspected that. I knew whatever had happened was something that hurt you very deeply. It was part of the reason why your Father and I never asked. We were afraid to hurt you."

"There are scars there. Who was my Father? Why didn't my Mother love me? Where was she?" I laughed with cynicism, "I know where she was now. I remember enough to put the pieces together." I shared a memory with her.

_It was late and I was sneaking into the larder with Alistair for both of us had gone without dinner. As we neared the doors, I heard a boisterous man's laugh and a feminine chuckle that was full of secretive delight. Alistair and I hid in a dark corner, both of our breaths held in, fearful that we had been found. Instead, I heard a wooden thump and when I peaked around the corner, I saw my Mother with a man. I didn't know who that man was but he was kissing her, his hands bunching her skirt and lifting it almost to her waist. I heard Alistair's shocked gasp and when I thought the man was my father and made my way to them, he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me back to my bedroom. _

_Inside my bedroom, I cried out at him, "Why did you do that? That was probably our Father!"_

_He held me in his arms, dropping a kiss over the crown of my head, "That wasn't our Father, Hales."_

_I pushed him away by the shoulders and demanded, "That _had_ to have been Father! She was kissing him!"_

"_No…" he came to embrace me again despite my pushing him away, "That wasn't our Father."_

"_Do you know who our Father is, Alistair?" I asked him_

"_Yes."_

"_Who is he?"_

"_It doesn't matter, Sweetheart. He'll never to see us and it doesn't matter. You have me. You'll always have me," he whispered into my hair._

Mother looked horrified, "She was – She was going to- She forgot you for _sex_?" Astonishment coloured her voice.

I nodded, "It seems that way. I didn't know what was happening then but now that I'm older, I realize what was going on. Alistair – he knew," I told her, "He knew and he tried to protect me from the truth. Whoever our Father was, he knew that my knowing about it would just cause me pain. So he sheltered me from the entire world. Maker, I loved him so much." I confessed, "Most of the pain… I don't miss her. I miss _him_ and at the very least, it wasn't all for naught for it gave me a real family." She touched my hand, trying to convey her love and sympathy, lifting my hand to her lips for a kiss. I told her, "Alistair was my half-brother and he was the only one I ever loved and he was the only one who ever loved me…" my voice broke, becoming nothing more than a husky breath. I shared more memories with her.

_I had been sitting by the broken vanity, staring at my reflection in the looking glass. It was already mid-afternoon. Mother had promised she would be back before noon to help me get dressed for a formal dinner. She had promised to buy me a lovely new dress and brush my hair until it gleamed like silk. I sighed, exasperated and hurt that she had forgotten about me. _

_There was a knock at my door, a light two tap sound, and recognizing Alistair's knocking style, I called out to him, "Come in, Alistair."_

_He found me with rumpled hair, still in my nightclothes whilst he was dressed in what we had thought was finery. His new clothes were well fitted and made of a silky quality, like satin. Even his boots bore no marks or scuffs. Alistair admonished, "You're still in your nightgown!"_

_I shook my head despairingly, "Mother said she'd be back by noon."_

_He looked at me with dark honey brown eyes through the mirror, his fingers gently tugging at my hair, "I will help you." _

_I threw my nightgown off and he helped me into a lovely red dress, my favourite red dress, decorated with gold string, patterned into the shapes of suns and stars. Then he sat me down by the vanity, took the brush and gently ran it through my hair. When it got caught in the knots of my curls, I protested with a loud, "Ow!"_

_He apologized, "I'm sorry, sister. I've never done this before." He studied me through the mirror and offered in a rush, "Be a good girl for me and I promise I'll steal some cheese from the larder for you."_

I smiled at the memory, "I never liked cheese as much as he did. It was his favourite treat but the thought meant something to me anyway." I shook my head, clearing my mind of the foggy memory, "He didn't know how to brush hair but because he knew I was upset, he gave it everything he got to make me happy. He was only three years older than me… only eight… but he loved me dearly. And from my old life, he is my one regret for leaving that old life…but I suppose I never had much choice. That life abandoned me."

Mother wiped away the stray tears from my cheeks that I hadn't realized I had cried. She told me, "Carver once asked me about an Alistair. He told me that you spoke with someone –"

I nodded, interrupting her, "Yes. The Grey Warden at the Ostagar camp… I met someone called Alistair. He looked so similar. He had the same hair, the same eyes," I smiled, "He even had that way of rushing through words and that whimsical smile. I thought – but no, I know he isn't really who I want him to be."

Mother asked me, "Why not?"

I answered her question, "He's _King_ Alistair now, a hero of Ferelden, a defeater of the Blight - he couldn't possibly be my brother. I was hardly royalty."

She nodded, understanding my logic. She asked, "You've never wanted to talk about this before. Why now?" Then she said desperately, "I'm not complaining. I'm just… curious."

The Seneschal interrupted our conversation, "The Viscount is ready for you now."

As we strode towards the Viscount's office, I told Mother, "Carver kissed me. It was like he opened up something within me and I just couldn't close it again. With some encouragement from Sebastian, it all came tumbling out."

And whether I wanted to admit it or not, there were some truths that I couldn't ignore anymore. My feelings, my past, they were all things I had to deal with. The emotions I had kept locked up wouldn't stay down anymore. So, I found ways to cope.

Once I had money, every door was opening up to me. Nobles greeted me on the street, suitors sent presents, flowers and our estate was given back to us for a small fortune in return. Being nobility had its burdens though. Every week or so, there would be court and I would have to sit through hours of boring talks, incessant whining from the nobles and put up with repulsive pigs who thought that a woman had little better to do than to spread her legs for any man who strode past. It was worth it though. Mother was finally happy and content. She spent weeks decorating the estate, buying new furniture and having Bodahn, our new manservant, fitting the pieces in different places. I think if it weren't for Bodahn and Sandal, I would have gone insane from Mother's inane picking and choosing.

It all seemed a little empty to me. The house was too big for me and Mother. Carver wasn't here. I opened up the bedrooms, taking one of the largest for myself. Though the bed Mother bought was huge and comfortable, I always felt lonely. I wondered just for a moment, what life would have been like if the Blight never happened at all. What if Carver found out I had been adopted in Lothering? What if there had been no Blight? Would we be happily together? The thought made my chest tight. I fiddled with my necklace for a moment before tucking it under my dress.

I needed things to distract myself. I stirred trouble with Sebastian to keep myself busy.

And in order to keep myself from thinking about Carver, I prodded around at Gamlen's shack. I even found a letter that spoke of the Gem of Keroshek. When Gamlen refused to reply to the letter or tell me more of it, I decided to follow the lead with Sebastian.

It was a goose chase really, a little boring and almost pointless. Almost. We followed leads from Darktown and into the Elven Alienage, fighting a great deal many thugs along the way. We trailed into a Fish Guttery, ambushed by more mercenaries. It was difficult without a front-fighter. Without Carver – no, without Fenris, a rogue and mage were a little out of sorts. Each fight felt close to death's edge.

Sebastian's skills were useful, he moved so quickly, he appeared a blur to me. Eventually, the two of us found ways of keeping the men at bay. I would protect us, using a line of fire lit upon the ground to keep the men away and he would pick them off, one by one, with his arrows.

We eventually found a note that mentioned a place called The Sink, a cave full of spiders and other such creatures. Not wanting to waste time dispatching those, I left shards of ice along the pathways so they couldn't follow, webs of electricity that would damage them and searing flames where possible.

What I ended up finding, however, was somewhat of a surprise. A girl by the name of Charade. Mousey brown, wavy hair, deep hooded violet eyes that were too big for her face, an upturned cute button nose and pursed, sulky lips. I thought she was a bit of a bitch at first.

"So Gamlen couldn't even be bothered to come himself?" she said with this sarcastic voice then became a bit more friendly, "I should have expected he'd send you, Cousin."

Gamlen's daughter. That was the only uncle I knew of. It was news to me. I asked, "I have a cousin?" She didn't look like Gamlen at all. She wasn't the prettiest girl I had ever met but she was a lot better looking than Gamlen. Although, perhaps my uncle just hadn't aged very well.

She was shocked, "Gamlen never told you? I…" she laughed, "Of course he didn't. Why would he?"

There was a slight interruption, in which Charade's apparent business partners turned out to be treacherous and spineless brutes, out to steal the Gem. It was a good lesson for her really. Sending people around on a goose chase with the means of notes carried around by comrades you couldn't trust was generally a great way of getting people injured or killed. Veld, one of her partners in crime, had realized that she had the Gem and attacked her to get it after I had apparently killed his brother. There were an army of men to fight.

All of them were well-built mercenaries, each wielding deadly weapons, all of them surrounding the three of us. I had a sinking feeling as Charade pulled out her own bow. Two rogues and a mage weren't heavy hitters compared to soldiers. My thoughts returned to Carver. Not even during a fight were my thoughts entirely my own.

In the cave, my fire spells came in handy. It burnt the flesh off men but didn't burn down the cave around us. The ground was too soggy to hold fire. But Carver was there, in his own way. Each spell was easier to cast with him in my mind. I could almost hear his voice in my ear, _"Don't forget the men coming in on your six. Wouldn't want your lovely behind to get injured."_

It was so ridiculous but my heart felt lighter even with his memory surrounding me. I almost didn't want all the mercenaries to drop dead so quickly. When all was said and done, Charade turned to me slightly out of breath, "You're pretty useful in a fight. You don't take after Gamlen at all."

I smirked at her, "Well, Gamlen's only an Uncle and I'm technically not your cousin."

"What?" she said, "Aren't you Hawke?"

I nodded, "I am, but I was adopted. So, we're not actually related by blood but rather by name."

Revealing this part of me was becoming shockingly easier as time went by and judging by Sebastian's private but complimenting smile, I knew it was a good thing. I shrugged, "You have another cousin though. Two, actually. Bethany and Carver but Bethany died before we even got to Kirkwall and Carver… he's a Templar, so I doubt you'll be seeing much of him."

It was information overload and she blanched, trying to absorb as much as she could. I prompted, "So, Gamlen is your Father?"

She nodded, "My mother, Mara, left him before I was born. He was so fixated on finding that stupid gem that I doubt he even noticed she was gone." She sounded so resentful, which was understandable, I mused to myself. Then she said, "She told me about Gamlen before she died last year. I didn't even know about him."

I lectured jokingly, "Next time you want to talk to someone, it might be best you try knocking on their door rather than sending them around on a useless chase that nearly got someone killed."

She snickered, "Oh, yes. That sounds brilliant. Just show up on his doorstep and say, 'Hi, I'm your daughter'. I doubt that'd go over well." Then she shook her head, "I just wanted to see – I don't know – how far he'd go for something he really wanted." She threw her hand in the air, "And then he doesn't even show up. I baited him with the one thing I thought would get his attention."

"Charade," I began helplessly, fingers picking at my amulet, "People change after… Oh, I don't know, how old are you?"

She shrugged, "I'm almost twenty-three."

I said loudly, "Exactly! You can't expect a man to keep going after the same thing for twenty-three years. Gamlen might seem like an ass, but one, he's got some good qualities and two, he is your Father. I think you should go talk to Gamlen," I suggested, "Does he even know about you?"

She shrugged and said with some doubt, "I'm… not sure."

I smiled a little, "I don't think Gamlen knows and maybe you shouldn't judge. At least give him the chance to talk to you. He is your Father…" I tried to sound the next words out, "Maybe, he deserves to know the truth." I joked, "Maybe you should try the _door_ this time?"

There was relief and affection shining in her eyes, "I think I will. Having a cousin turned out to be a good thing, adopted or not. Maybe… having a father will be a good thing, too."

I escorted her to Gamlen's house and asked her, "So… about that gem, did you find it?"

She grinned at me, took something from her pocket and dangled it in front of me. It was a bright green gem, large and almost gaudy. I asked her unimpressed, "That's it?"

Charade rolled her eyes at me, "It's worth a fortune!" Then she chucked it at me. I nearly lost it, fumbled before catching it again. I threw it back at her, "I don't want it. You take it!" She shrugged, "I don't want it either."

We looked at each other, feeling like siblings about to squabble and burst out into laughter. I wrapped her hands upon the green jewel and said, "Give it to Gamlen and see what happens. Go talk to him. I'll be right out here."

I gave them some time, a while, during which time Sebastian and I spoke. I told him, "I got the estate back. I've found an extra cousin. I guess I need to face the brood, right?"

Sebastian's hand was light and calming upon my shoulder, "Don't worry. It might turn out better than expected. It might shed some light on your past with so many minds thinking together."

I eyed him fearfully, "What about the whole Carver kissing me thing?"

He leaned against the wall and smiled, "These are the Maker's tests. You'll never know what happens until you get through to the other side." I wasn't sure if that helped or not.

Charade came out a little later to invite me inside and both of them were smiling. I commented, "Looks like you two had a good talk."

Gamlen sneered at me, "It was bloody awkward, that's what." Charade giggled.

I grinned at her before joking, "She looks nothing like you. Thank the Maker, huh?"

My uncle rolled his eyes at me before sighing out in slight embarrassment, "You know, I may not say this very often, but I'm glad you're one of the family," then he muttered out, "even if you're adopted… and kiss your own brother!"

I screeched, "Alright! Totally not necessary! How did you even find out?"

He looked at me like I was insane, "Leandra told me, of course! But seriously," he said, glaring at me with rich irritation, "Next time? Stay out of my damned business, girl."

I offered spontaneously, "You know, I was hoping to stay _in_ your business. It's just a thought but maybe… you and Charade would like to live at the estate. There's no point in you squatting here in Lowtown and I have more bedrooms than I know what to do with! Think about it."

Gamlen snorted, "I don't need your charity, girl. I'm happy _squatting_ here in Lowtown."

I told him gently, "Charade needs a family, too. A place where she can put down some solid roots. Friends and family she can relate to." When he looked like he was going to protest, I cut in, "Just… think about it, alright?" I gave a meaningful look to Charade who grinned at me. I knew we would end up living together.

Within two weeks, they moved in. The house still had too many empty bedrooms but we felt like a real family. Mother and Gamlen patched up their differences and I had a new cousin to joke and laugh with. Gamlen gave the Gem of Keroshek to me but I passed it back to Charade, who gave it back to Gamlen who decided that his greatest treasure was his child and sold it to the highest bidder. The coin he made was placed in the Vault along with the gold I had found. We had a shared store of riches.

Then came my dealings with my friends. The Hanged Man was loud and boisterous as Sebastian and I made our way to Varric's room. At the door, I could smell alcohol and hear the game of Wicked Grace being played. When I knocked at the door, everyone became silent. I introduced Sebastian to them, letting them socialize and get to know one another. Fenris and Anders grabbed me, one upon each arm and told me in no certain amount of conviction that, "You _have_ to talk to them about the adoption thing. We can't handle the questions anymore."

I laughed and hugged each of them close before asking, "How much have you told them?"

"Nothing," was their simultaneous answer. I was so grateful for them and pushed them back to the main table, ordering a glass of cider for some non-alcoholic liquid courage. The onslaught of questions began. Varric questioned, his fingers against one another in mercantile eagerness, "So Hawke, where've you been?"

I raised my eyebrows at him, "Surely you know about my moving into the estate… you do have ears and eyes everywhere."

He nodded, grinning at me, "And you moved in your uncle and cousin. That was nice of you."

I said in dramatic breathlessness, "I'm nothing if not nice."

Then awkward silence reigned and no one moved or said anything.

I sighed in defeat, "Alright alright, ask your damned questions."

Isabela said, "First off, why is it Anders and Fenris knows the juicy details and the rest of us don't?"

Sneering, Fenris told her off, "Because you're not intelligent enough to work it out."

I nudged him in the ribs, "They worked out that I was adopted. They didn't really ask questions. Well," I glared at the two of them, "Not many, anyway."

It was a long night. It wasn't that they wanted to know every single detail but rather, the time was mostly spent upon squabbling over which detail was the most important. Eventually, they wanted to know who my Mother was, who my Father was but I shook my head, "I don't know. I remember what my Mother looked like but I don't even remember her name. Father? I didn't know or ever see the man. So, no idea."

Aveline crossed her arms and looked at me, "So you just followed Malcolm home and became a Hawke? Just like that?"

I nodded, "Just like that."

"And Carver?" she challenged.

I shrugged, "There's nothing to talk about there. He's a Templar. I'm a mage."

Isabela looked at me with that seductive gleam in her eyes, "But Varric here told us how he kissed you with bruising force and passionate embrace."

I glared at Varric, "Did you have to?"

He said defensively, "What? It was true! If I hadn't been trying to pick my jaw off the damn floor from surprise, I would have been trying to narrate it for you!"

I grimaced, "Really?"

Fenris commented, "It…was not brotherly, Hawke."

I touched the chain around my neck and said sadly, "It doesn't matter. It's too late for us now."

Anders interrupted my thoughts, "You mentioned a half-brother at some point."

I nodded, "Yes. Alistair. He-"

Aveline shouted, "_King_ Alistair?"

I laughed, "I doubt it. He and I shared the same Father and we lived in some ratty part of a small noblemen's estate. We couldn't possibly be related." Everyone left it at that.

By the end of the night, Varric came to speak with me about investment opportunities. He told me, "You interested in getting even richer?"

I nodded, "Sure. What do you need?"

He told me, "Coin. Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, Hawke. Look at it this way, you give me gold and I invest. When time is up, I give you the original capital and whatever profit there is, I take a quarter and the rest is yours."

The night had ended on a rather good note and in some ways, I had come to some realizations of my own. Carver was, in some ways, no longer a part of my life. That was the way it was going to be. I didn't like it. I missed him. I wanted to give up and be with him. I wanted to fight it and stay strong. But Carver wasn't with me anymore and life had to keep going.

It made life a little easier, knowing that there were now people who knew my secrets. It wasn't entirely the same as having someone love me at the same time but I was content to let things be. I found things to focus my life upon and though, I always thought of Carver and missed him terribly, I learned to live without him just as I had once done so when smuggling with Athenril.

The rest of the year became a bit of routine. Varric routinely came to me for money to investment in various projects around the city and my fortunes almost doubled by the year's end. I began investing into Anders' clinic, providing him with coin so that he could improve his tools and buy more ingredients.

Each week I spent a day in court, waiting idly in frustration as nobles squabbled over petty differences. Sometimes Charade deigned to come with me but there was little to do even with her there. Two nights a week was spent over at Fenris' mansion, teaching him how to read until I fell asleep. Though Mother often lectured me about staying over at another man's house, eventually she gave up knowing that the two of us were nothing but friends.

One day a week was spent at the Chantry, helping Sebastian with some cooking for the poor, helping him with little odds and ends or just spending time talking. I tried to help him campaign for Starkhaven but it seemed futile effort. Those who didn't have power couldn't help and those that did were too self-absorbed to see past their rotund bellies.

Despite what seemed like a mundane routine, there were a few things that sparked interest. Firstly, I turned twenty. I was no long a young girl but a lady of society.

Several times, I accompanied Mother and Charade to visit Carver but I generally stayed quiet and away from the conversation, keeping a distance. We never spoke but Charade frequently mentioned that his eyes would stray towards me so she was hopeful that maybe one day, we would be together.

Thirdly, Fenris and I would spend a few nights a week in Anders' clinic in the dead of the night, trying to figure out my powers. We read multiple dusty tomes, went to the Black Emporium to speak with Xenon the Proprietor and experimented with my magic. Over time, we came to realize that I was, as Fenris had suggested, a sorceress, capable of creating illusions, casting powerful spells that would affect one's mind like seductions and hallucinations or spells that allowed me to absorb lyrium directly without damage, absorb another's mana or even convert a man's life energy into my own store of mana, or in my rawest form, I could allow my mana to simply pulse so powerfully that my enemies would disintegrate once in contact.

There were admittedly, a lot of near misses. I very nearly took off Fenris' arm due to poor aiming when I was trying to direct my mana pulses towards a pile of wood. I burned Anders' leg quite badly when I was attempting to create illusions of fire and instead, cast fire spells at him. We laughed about it afterwards but I was terribly scared that I would injure them severely. They waved me off, trying to be macho and manly about it but I wasn't always sure I believed their flippant attitudes.

One night, it became blatantly clear to me that Fenris' apparent acceptance of my powers was simply a polite façade. It had been another near miss. I was supposed to direct an illusion of flames towards Fenris, an arrow of fire, and instead caused a mighty explosion in Anders' clinic. Flames of bright, electric blue flew about the damp floors of the clinic, the blaze fanning out like a bird's wings. A swirl of smoke flittered towards the ceilings before glowing a piercing purple, like a single eye was watching the three of us.

I saw Fenris' face, closed and tight as he watched the display of impressive flutters of mana and lyrium and thought it was just the shadow upon his face. When the wisps of blue and purple faded away, I asked, "Is everyone alright?"

Anders had waved my words aside and jabbered on about the theories of what had gone wrong. Fenris had only nodded, giving a polite, "Of course."

I wasn't sure I believed him. Something brutal was lurking there, right beneath the skin, beneath his impassive and thin façade that spoke of barely controlled anger. I went to him, touching his arm. It was a mistake. He grabbed me by the wrist, twisted it behind my back and pushed me face-first into the walls.

"Don't touch me!" he had bellowed out before throwing me to one side, stomping out of the clinic without any other words.

As Anders helped me to my feet, checking my legs to ensure no broken bones or rolled ankles, of Fenris' hostile treatment, he had commented lightly, "You can take the chains off a man's wrists - but you might not ever be able to take the slave out of his heart."

I understood the implication. Something about the display had reminded Fenris of Danarius. He was very much aware of my powers and felt insecure about them. "I have to talk to him."

"Are you crazy? He'll shove that glowing fist right through your chest."

He'd try to, sure, but his display of roughness had me itching for a fight. I _wanted_ him to try and kill me. There was something about the challenge of fighting Fenris that reminded me of Carver, and whilst the latter had never treated me in such a rough fashion, there was still a similarity there that I couldn't brush aside. The use of the sword, the brooding surliness… I went to Fenris' mansion late that night and confronted him about it.

His first words were, "Get out of my house, you dirty abomination!"

I set out to deliberately provoke him, "I'm no demon so your instruction is useless."

Fenris swore, filthy oaths in Arcanum, before coming towards me, shoving me towards the door. I shoved him back, yelling in his face, "I am not a demon!"

"I know that!"

"Then stop acting like an idiot!"

He shoved me by the shoulders, "Don't call me that!"

"Don't act like one then!" I countered in a scream.

"Get out! This is _my_ house! You don't get to come in here and order me around!" Physically stronger than me, he carried me outside the threshold of his bedroom and dropped me violently upon the dusty marble.

I heard a crack in my ribs and cursed foully, before kicking my legs out in a sweeping motion, catching him off guard, bringing him crashing along the floor beside me. His right elbow hit the marble with a sickening crack.

As the two of us got up, I told him with conviction, "I'm not Danarius."

In his frantic rage, all he threw at me was, "Then stop using magic!"

He raised his sword at me, clumsily aiming it at me with only one hand. "That's like asking me not to breathe, Fenris!" I exclaimed, "I cannot change what I am any more than you can take those lyrium brands out of your skin!"

"You are a mage, with power over all of us," he swung his sword and I fended it off with my own protection sphere, "If you were to control us, we could do nothing about it!"

I shot him backwards against the wall, "I am not a monster! I wouldn't do that to my friends!"

He threw me against a chair, sword forgotten, "The temptation is always there! Your magic spoils everything!"

"And what about your lyrium?" I accused, "Should I ask you to rip them out so you become incapable of fisting everyone who pisses you off?"

"I cannot do that without dying! You can stop using magic and live your own life!" he shouted at me.

"And what kind of life is that?" I countered, "Why should I live a half-life, a slave to whatever whims you are afraid of facing?"

With a growling snarl, he hurled himself at me, pushing me upon the floor, keeping me down as he reached for his sword.

There was a split-second clarity. I wanted to surrender. Something I had never done before.

We were covered in bruises, bloodied lips and maybe more than a few broken bones. And why? Only because of our fears for the unknown, for our inability to trust.

When he reached to strike me, I did not defend, too exhausted by life and too unwilling to fight him, "You have your own abilities. Will you massacre the world? Will you kill me?"

I just wanted to give up control to someone and hope for the best. And as the sword hung a few inches away from me, the only thought that ran through my mind was – Of all the people I could trust with my life, I was putting my faith in the rage-crazed Fenris? Why hadn't I trusted in Carver to not hurt me when all these years when he had been, almost always, gentle with me?

The tip of his sword crashed a hair's breadth from my neck, his eyes conflicted and hands trembling. With a snarl, he threw the metal aside. From the dusty floor, I offered to him, "You could help me, make sure I learn to control it properly, make sure I don't misuse it."

One moment, he was heaving, mind caught up in his own emotional quarrels and the next, he pulled me to my feet, arms wrapped around me. His voice was husky in my ear, "I've wanted to trust you but have been too afraid to. Thank you for giving me this compromise."

I understood. It certainly opened my eyes towards the relationship Carver and I shared. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to trust in his love but I wasn't able to. The only difference was that there could be no compromise between me and Carver. I was either in completely or out all together. Any grey areas in between would only cause pain for the both of us.

Both Anders and Fenris became my anchors; Anders taught me how to wield and cast new spells, Fenris encouraged me to control my power. Though Anders couldn't personally cast the spells himself, as he was not a sorcerer, he could teach me to read the diagrams. A spell was like a weaving spider's web and unlike the ones that we often muttered in Arcanum, these were more physical. I had to wave the figure with my hand or picture the image strongly in my mind.

There were some spells that I refused to touch, both for my sake and Fenris'. When Anders told me the seduction spells or the ones that would manipulate another's mind, I refused them. He had shrugged, obviously relieved at my personal choices and Fenris had complimented me, "You have principles. It is a good thing."

As the year went on, I became better at casting illusions. Anders would let me practice creating the images of fire and ice around the room, create sword like weapons in the air that would fly at him despite the fact that it would never do any damage whatsoever and finally, on a cold winter's day, I managed to create a brief duplicate of myself. We had celebrated that amazing feat.

There was also a bonus for Anders. As I practiced my skill in leeching mana off Anders, our magical bond deepened and soon, he and I were constantly merged in mana whenever we were physically in the same area. Somehow, in the process, the spirit of Vengeance seemed to revert back to Justice, strict and firm but not angry. Justice tried to explain it to me once, "When you and Anders merge, I am able to absorb the best of you - Anders' never ending passion to help others but also your calm, the stillness within you. I am Justice again." Anders became calmer, less volatile and Justice was no longer corrupted.

But there were problems. At first, it wasn't as noticeable as I was still getting used to my powers and as such, each spell I cast would be small and insignificant in the amount of power I was releasing. As time went by however, it became blatantly clear that as soon as I pushed myself over a particular limit, I would suffer. It wasn't any long term damage, mostly symptomatic responses but I would go into something similar to mana withdrawal, curling up into a ball to fight away the shakes that would take hold of my body. Even through practice, it never seemed like I could get rid of my limitations. Anders called it a 'blockage' and said that I probably just needed time, I wasn't so sure about that.

The rest of my time was spent righting wrongs in Kirkwall, going on quests and helping others. We helped mages, killed Ser Alrik, defeated Fenris' former torturer, Hadriana, killed Bartrand, because Varric couldn't help himself, and overall, caused a lot of trouble to give peace to the city.

At the very end of the year, I hosted a huge festive dinner and all my friends were invited over. Everyone was happy and socializing. Isabela attempted to seduce Charade, Merrill ended up tipsy, Gamlen and Varric actually seemed to get along really well, Donnic and Aveline came out as a couple and more than a few times, I saw Anders and Fenris speaking with Mother.

Everything was perfect. Almost.

But I realized that without Carver, that was as perfect as it would ever be. Carver's kisses had woken up something within me, something that I craved and wanted. I lay awake at night, thinking about his touch and it was agony for me. My body ached for his touch, my lips ached for his kiss and my mind and heart ached for his love. I would remember the way his lips ravaged mine, how his tongue pressed into my mouth and how he held me in his arms, his hands caressing my waist and threading into my hair.

Everything was perfect. Almost.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey, sorry about how long it took to update. I've been having a lot of assignments due. Hopefully, things will wind down towards Easter and such.

As always, a shout out to Mistress Vo for her wonderful editing!

As always, please R&R! I'd love to know what my reader's think and feel. All criticism is much appreciated.

Love,  
>Ann<p> 


	10. Secret Identity

**Chapter 10 – Secret Identity**

_Carver_

Life without Hales, without family became dull, morose and entirely miserable. I felt even more lonesome than before. Still, our family had managed to enlarge in my absence and whilst they came to visit me in the Gallows, I was introduced to a new cousin.

Charade was… interesting. She had a very bubbly and fun personality, overall cheerful outlook upon life and strange facial expressions. She didn't remind me of Gamlen in the least, after the initial shock, I learned to like her a bit. Now and again, her voice got a bit too shrill though. It gave me a headache.

That was something she didn't get from the Hawke side of the family – a nice voice. Not like Hales but then again, she wasn't a part of our family.

Mother told me that Hales had apparently invited both she and her father to live in the estate. So, including the servants of the house, there were enough people to make the home seem lively again. In my spare time, I often thought pettily, 'good for them' but because Mother seemed genuinely happy, I couldn't really find it in me to be petty about it for long.

It was nice to see them. It was the one last tangle of communication that I had with family and it was much sorely missed and needed. Whenever they came though, Hales always stood on the opposite side of the room. She never came up to me, never said anything but occasionally, her eyes would fly towards me, wistful and reminiscent, yearning and sad. Our eyes would lock and she would be remembering me, I realized but I wouldn't care. All I would remember was how she had lied to me, how she had hurt me and all my anger and hatred would rise until my mind felt dizzy with it. It was like plumes of vitriol would erupt to the forefront of my mind and I couldn't care or love her until she walked out of the door.

Then the emotions would return.

I would hate myself for not talking to her. I would feel unhappy again.

I would miss her until my whole body ached with melancholy depression.

Our last kiss was something that weighed heavily on my mind. I wasn't sure if I hated myself for actually kissing her or if I hated her for her unforgettably heart-racing reactions. Probably both. If I hadn't kissed her or if she hadn't reacted so needily, I wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, scorched through and sticky from the sweet dreams of her body pressed up against me, writhing beneath me and wrapping herself all around me.

When I could, I tried to lose myself in the arms of a willing woman at the Blooming Rose just to forget about _her_ but my needs could never be entirely sated. I could be exhausted and limp from screwing another woman into the mattress but inside, I was barely satisfied.

Eventually, I gave up even on that. I cursed Hales for the affect that she retained upon me. I couldn't wash her out of my blood; not with sex, not with alcohol, nothing could make me forget her – not even temporarily.

I missed her in the dead of the night. Missed her presence, her kindness, her warm words, her rich laughter, her flirty smiles, the warm glints in her eyes, even her lecturing. Eventually, I realized that the things I missed about her weren't things that I had seen in a very long time. She wasn't like that anymore. Hales still had those qualities in her but there were very deeply buried.

Life had taken its toll upon her just as Father had once imagined it would. I often wondered if she was happy. But of course she wasn't. And neither was I.

On my nineteenth birthday, Mother and Charade came to visit but Hales did not come. Her gift for me was not to see her face but I could taste the food, knew it had been made by her and underneath the cinnamon apple pie was a small sliver of paper. Inside was her writing of 'Happy Birthday', cursive and elegant with her lip stain printed underneath.

I kept the note underneath my pillow in my bunk and often, when the night was deep and the lights were out, I would take the paper and hold it to my face. I would be able to almost smell her sweetness, her scent of jasmine and night orchids. There would be something else too, something that I was sure I had only imagined. Something magical and seductive and altogether addictive. I would kiss her stain, the imprint, imagine the softness of her lips upon mine and how her mouth yielded and sighed in surrender.

Well, almost. She never _completely_ surrendered to me, not even in my dreams.

Not ever.

Aside from my missing family, I felt utterly unfulfilled. When I became a Templar, I thought I had been doing the right thing for myself, making Father proud, protecting the apostate 'sister' I had, doing something worthwhile. I had absolutely no idea what that life I had chosen would entail. I had imagined a strong group of warriors that followed resolutely a creed, fighting the evils of magic and protecting innocence.

That fantasy I had envisaged was rather rudely shattered.

I began to understand that just because I was a Templar didn't mean that I could change the way the entire system worked such that justice was served. I was on my own. No allies. No friends. I closed my eyes and turned my head from a lot of bad deeds that were done, if only just to survive in the environment.

The Templars - sure, there were a few good ones. Cullen was firm but knew when to be lenient. The rest were a bloody disgrace. They killed mages for running, telling them only abominations would run away from the Circle. I saw the way the mages were treated, the way they lived. It was inhumane. I began to understand why Father took so many pains in ensuring our family's safety.

There were rumours that Ser Alrik was a rapist, that he wanted to make mages Tranquil for the 'benefits'. Tranquils never protested. They did as ordered and felt that whatever they had been ordered to do, it would be the right thing. I wanted to do something, to prove that Ser Alrik had been a rapist but by the time I had enough evidence, Alrik had already been found dead, his corpse floating along the Kirkwall waters, head twisted at an awkward angle. I gathered my documents and gave them to Cullen and for a while, there was some progress as Templars toed the line. It didn't last long though and what had I expected? No one in Kirkwall's public ever found out about Alrik's treachery.

In some ways, I hated the life I was living. It wasn't worthwhile at all and it took a whole year before I figured that out. Given the evolution of my thoughts and revelations, I began to wonder what life would have been like if I hadn't become a Templar. I'd be Lord Carver, living a life of nobility, rich food and finery. I wasn't sure that it was the best that life had to offer but I came to realize that it had to be better than being a Templar. At least I'd be with family, with friends. The Order was important, the Order's creeds were important and I understood that but Kirkwall wasn't a city where that creed actually mattered.

I began to actually wonder – what was worthwhile? If not being a Templar or making a name for myself, what was worthwhile? What was right?

The second year away from home gave me more clarity. Starting from the beginning of that year, Hales never came when Mother and Charade visited. The anger that rose within me every time I saw her gave way to me being able to think more clearly.

I realized that I knew basically nothing about Hales. Her past was a secret to me. Her absence in my life meant that I knew nothing of what she did on a daily basis.

My heart squeezed even more tightly at every thought of her. Where was she? What was she doing? What was she thinking about? What trouble was she stirring up now?

I knew nothing.

Some nights, I found myself outside her estate after patrols and I would stare up at the windows. After a few such incidences, I managed to work out which was her bedroom. Sometimes, the candles would still be on. Some nights, the room was dark.

Sometimes I watched her work. She would be sitting at her desk, a quill in her hand, feather tickling at her chin as she thought. Her gorgeous hair would be tumbling around her face and down her shoulders, a tired expression on her face and a lonely look in her eye.

No, she wasn't happy.

One night, I saw shadows of someone else. She was in her room writing when she looked up, talking to someone. I felt my breath stop short as a large shadow came across her desk. My heart pounded as I watched her tip her head back to laugh. Then my chest constricted as the thought of her being with a lover registered in my mind.

It hadn't been a lover. It was Charade. She came around to the desk, wrapped slim arms around Hales, kissed her on the cheek before waving goodbye.

Charade.

Not a lover.

And I realized with a start, Maker, I was in love with her. I never got over her. It didn't seem like I ever would.

No, I wasn't happy either.

My mind obsessed even more. There were so many unanswered questions, things I needed to know.

So, early spring, I began to ask Charade where Hales was when Mother had excused herself to use the bathroom. I asked her as an opening line, "So… how is the family?"

Charade gave me a knowing look and teased, "So you want to know about your Uncle Gamlen, huh?"

I gave her any equally knowing look, narrowing my eyes at her in irritation, "You know who I'm asking about."

She sighed and touched her hands to my metal-covered ones, "Hales… Maker, I worry about her sometimes. She's happy, sort of, and she lives her life. I mean, she's built her own life. She's always out fixing the entire world. I'm surprised that Kirkwall's not a perfect city after everything she's done."

That hadn't been news I didn't know. Everyone in the Templar Order knew about 'Hawke' but somehow, she had managed to escape their attention in terms of being a mage. Maybe being a noble really helped. Charade laughed, "She even goes to court once a week. She's bored and gets hit on like nothing else I've ever seen. Like the other day, this pig kept making innuendos at her and whilst I was stifling laughter, she acted like she couldn't hear. It was so funny."

I frowned in annoyance, some things didn't change. She was still attracting too much attention from the men. I said impatiently, "But you said you worry about her."

She nodded, "There's a lot she's hiding. I mean, she's told her friends and family about her past –"

"Wait!" I interrupted, "She's told everyone about her past? How much exactly? What did she say?"

She sighed, "Can you stop interrupting me? I'd tell you if you stop talking!" Scowling at her, I gestured for her to continue. She said, "She hasn't told us everything and I suspect Auntie Leandra knows more than she's letting on but Hales has told us a few things, like how she got abandoned and stuff. She still remembers some things about her old life. It's heartbreaking watching her struggle. She hates looking weak and she doesn't want to admit how much her past hurts her."

Of course not. Hales was strong, a survivor. I filed that thought away for more examination later.

I interrupted, "Yeah? But what are you worried about, exactly?"

Charade glared at my interruption and I apologized, "Sorry." She spat at me, "I don't see why you don't ask her yourself. You guys are doing this beating around the bush thing. It's irritating to watch." When I glared at her, she relented, "Oh Maker, fine. She's always out doing something. She might come home for dinner and then she disappears. I know she spends two nights with Fenris –"

"WHAT?" I shouted, "TWO NIGHTS!"

Charade smacked me upside the head and hissed, "Shut up! Maker! She's just teaching him how to _read_!"

"Oh," I said stupidly, the jealousy ceasing in a second. Then she continued reluctantly, "She spends a day in the Chantry with Sebastian, helping him out with Chantry things. I know she loves talking to Isabela and gets into trouble with Varric. He's also helping her with investing her gold. She's practically doubled her fortunes since the Deep Roads. Sometimes she helps Aveline with odd jobs and everyone comes over to dinner at least once a week."

I told her, "This doesn't sound too worrying."

She looked around discreetly, before leaning forward, "She and Fenris spend a few nights with Anders as well and I think they're helping her practice magic."

I asked, "Blood?" horrified at the thought. Luckily, she shook her head. It didn't sound threatening but something in her eyes made me worry and she revealed, "I've seen Auntie Leandra talk to Anders a lot… I can't help but feeling like something is happening."

Hales had a past, was it coming back to haunt her? It was with this thought that I began to understand her somewhat better. I had spent an entire year angry, an entire year and then some, over the secrets she had harboured but what had I actually understood about life?

My mind turned to the possibilities of my life I hadn't become a Templar. What life would I have been living?

The answer came quickly – A worthwhile one.

I had been so stupid, running after an ideal, looking for material objects like fame and fortune. Worth wasn't in that. I was chasing down a dream, a young boy's fantasy. I had been an idiot.

And given that I understood so little about life, what would I have understood about my life together with Hales? Would I have known what consequences would have cropped up as a result? Was I ready to accept such consequences? Did I even know what they were?

Of course not. And Mother, why hadn't I ever thought of Hales' feelings in regards to Mother's blatant disapproval of the two of us? She had made her feelings clear upon the boat that took us to Kirkwall, hadn't she? Athenril said Hales heard everything – why hadn't I thought of it?

And furthermore, there was a part of Hales that I knew was just scared, vulnerable and insecure. Somewhere deep in her mind was a seeded belief that relying on anyone, admitting her fears, allowing herself to love me or be loved by me would mean utterly destroying herself. Could I really blame her for keeping secrets? She was strong. She wanted to survive.

A few months after that incident, maybe early summer, Charade came to visit me. Alone. When I asked her why she was here, she told me she was bored. I told her, "Come on Charade, I have work to do. Can't you harass your other cousin? I'm sure she's got plenty of people you can help kill or something."

She looked at me funnily, like I was incredibly stupid, "What are you talking about? Hales went to Ferelden!" As I gaped, opening my mouth to question her, she interrupted, "Don't ask questions. I don't know anything aside from the fact that she's in Ferelden with a few of her companions. She told me to look after Auntie Leandra whilst she was gone."

I had rushed out to counter, "How could I have known that?" before it hit me like a tonne of bricks. Like the Chantry had collapsed and fallen on top of me.

Hales. Gone.

It was such a harsh truth; a cold slap of water to my face that gave way to all the answers I had been searching. It all rushed up.

It was more than her absence now. I could see into the future, the last vestiges of her memory leaving Kirkwall. I would be Hawke now. Not Hawke's family or Maker forbid, "Hawke's brother". But I couldn't find any happiness in that. All I had ever wanted was to be out of her shadow. I was.

I didn't care.

It all came crashing down. Her faith in me was worthwhile. Her belief was worthwhile. I had spent every moment running from her shadow when being in it was the only place worth being in.

I shouldn't have joined the Templars to find a worthwhile life.

I should have stayed home and lived it instead.

I shouldn't have joined the Templars to protect her.

I should have stayed home to fulfil such duties.

"_This gift is my faith in you – that one day, you'll do as Father predicts and leave a few craters in this world."_

I had felt grateful that day when she said those words. I had felt the impact of her words strike me with an overwhelming force of warmth but I had chosen to ignore it afterwards.

Father was right. She needed me but I needed her, too.

And now, it was too late.

_Hales_

I was beginning to suspect that something was going on.

At first, it was Mother and Anders. Every time my friends were over, the two of them would eventually hole up in the library, caught in hushed urgent murmurings and concerned expressions. When I walked into the room, both would immediately stop talking and each would look at me with varying doe-eyed expressions. It was weird, suspicious and if I didn't know any better, I would have said that the two of them were in an affair.

Then, Fenris got involved. I got blown off when I suggested reading lessons. The sorcery lessons with Anders had taken a temporary pause. At the weekly dinner over at my family estate, the _three_ of them would hole up in the library. Not an affair then, I thought to myself as a joke.

I had interrupted their whispers, leaning upon the door jamb with arms crossed over my breasts, "Anything I need to worry about?"

All froze for a second before three sets of heads whipped towards me in harmonized cue. There were brief stutters before Fenris managed to recover, "We were asking your Mother about the precautions your Father took to protect the mages in the family."

It was well delivered but I doubted his words especially given Anders' nervous stutter of, "It's to make sure your sorcery lessons go without interruption."

I left them alone, knowing that they probably wouldn't budge to my questioning. I confronted Mother about it with a ridiculous accusation, "You and Fenris and Anders, huh? I didn't think they were your type."

Poor Mother, I thought in amusement as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened to the size of dinner saucers. She spluttered, "Why – I – What kind of a question is that?"

I feigned innocence, having too much fun not to continue the joke, "Well, the three of you keep getting caught up. I just thought… maybe, they were… uh, repaying the host for nice dinners?"

Seeing her expression of utter revulsion and astonishment was so hilarious that I cracked up laughing, my shoulders shaking from the mirth of the situation.

Mother had made a noise of indulgent disgust before she told me, "No, we are not having an affair. We were just talking."

My eyes turned upon her shrewdly, "About?" I prompted.

She shrugged, "Things of the past. Your Father and our family's magic."

I surveyed her with a tilted head but she did not flinch from me nor did she purposely stare into my eyes to convince me. I nodded with satisfaction that she wasn't lying.

I just wasn't sure she was telling me the whole truth.

It was obvious _something _was happening. Not long after that, Sebastian would constantly find me for trivial or nonsensical reasons. It was completely unlike him. Whilst Sebastian and I would always spend at least a day together at the Chantry every week's end, it didn't seem right that he invited me for random strolls through the city's outer reaches.

During one such stroll along the softer grasses at the foot of Sundermount, I asked him, "What's going on, Sebastian?"

His reply was carefully thought out, eyes veiled with secrets, "What do you mean, Hales?"

I gestured around me, "What are we really doing out here in Sundermount? What's going on?"

Sebastian's blue eyes stared into mine. They were different to Carver's, I realized. His were more _polished_, civilized in his glances. Carver's were raw, gleams of animalistic instincts right beneath the surface. I couldn't believe I was comparing Sebastian with Carver. Did I miss him so much that everything was to do with him? But of course, I did.

There were seconds of silence until Sebastian stood toe-to-toe with me. He implored with a soft command, "Trust me."

I scoffed, "You know I do. We fight together. I trust you to have my back." Then the thought came to me – Was Sebastian trying to court me? I frowned, "Sebastian… you aren't trying to… court me, are you?"

He smiled, eyes flashing with amused warmth, "No, I'm not but I appreciate that you worry for my emotional well-being."

I breathed a moment of mental relief, "Then what's going on?"

A rough index finger lifted my chin as he asked again in that gentle but commanding tone, "Trust me."

"I do."

He tilted his head, wording his request carefully, sinking tendrils of our bond deeper into my soul, "Not just with your life. With your future. With your past. Trust in me to have your best interests in mind _and_ heart."

I searched his eyes but of course, found nothing hidden. He allowed my intruding glances, understanding the potential sacrifice I would be making.

I knew deep in my heart that this man would never hurt me.

Could I believe it? Could I trust in him to really have my best interests in mind?

I felt the fear grip me, felt our bond of friendship urging me to trust him. Both sides warred inside me but something akin to hope bloomed inside me. There was something here that made sense. There was something here that could help fill the emptiness inside my heart. I knew it to be true.

I nodded once and whispered, "I'm trusting you with this. Don't make me sorry."

Sebastian smiled and brushed his lips against mine in a courtly promise, undemanding and friendly.

Yet, when I closed my eyes, all I could think of was Carver.

Who had I just decided to trust? Sebastian? Or a part of me and so in extension, Carver?

Kirkwall began getting news from the Ferelden borders that King Alistair was searching for someone of his past. She was given quite the prestigious title, 'The Lost Princess'. There were rumours that she had been kidnapped and killed by slavers whilst other stories told of a young girl, beautiful and mysterious, growing up behind the cold stone walls of the Orlesian Chantry.

And it was this same time that every piece of my life fell into the story, revealing many of the secrets that even _I_ hadn't known about. It was after another weekly dinner when Mother had pulled me upstairs to my bedroom whilst my friends were being seen out by Bodahn and Sandal. Smiling, I had followed her without thought.

In my bedroom waiting for me was Anders, Fenris and Sebastian. Then my eyes fell upon my bedspread and the few items that I had once worn were littered across the silk. My smile fell away. Here was the evidence of my past, the evidence of my pain and heartache.

My favourite red dress, decorated with suns and stars, faded from all the years of being unworn and kept aside lay limp, like a ghost of my past, tired and exhausted, its last breath an encouragement towards facing my past.

A drawing, crinkled and smudged still bore enough detail for me to just make out the words 'A Rose For Hales'. Blurs of red and green wax chalk still tinted the yellowing parchment, a token to represent my heart, my love and a boy that I had left behind me.

The red-stoned ring and the chain that I had religiously wore everyday because I was expected to. It was the only item that had retained its radiance and it taunted me, a symbol of mockery for my mage talents, for my mother's abandonment, for my heartache that I had never truly walked away from.

My fingers passed over each item in remembrance and though I wanted to hurl the ring out the window, I asked softly instead, "How?"

Mother replied, "I saved these things for you. I thought you would want them back one day."

I looked towards the men, the three most important men in my life aside from Carver and a brother that I had never seen since I had been abandoned. I gestured to them in explanation and Anders offered, "When you mentioned that you had a brother by the name of Alistair, I suspected you meant the Ferelden King."

I understood the implication but I could barely voice how ridiculous his comments were. I felt the lump of sadness rise upwards into my throat, felt the tingling in my chest as it threatened to tighten. I managed through a broken and weak voice, "You do realize that there are a great deal many Alistair's in this world, yes?"

Anders was kind in tone and nodded, "Of course. I didn't want to cause you more heartache and so, spent much time talking to your Mother as well as many others."

Fenris gestured for me to sit upon the bed, pressing me into the mattress with firm but tender hands. The lyrium in his skin sang to me, comforting me in a most instinctive, primitive level, like the way bear cubs must feel with their brothers or sisters.

In thick brogue, Sebastian passed me the ring and suggested, "Read the inscription."

Inscription? I had never realized there had been words engraved in the ring. I lifted it to my face and I could clearly see two names inscribed. In beautiful, cursive workmanship, the names 'Maric' and 'Sarah' sat side by side.

Sarah… had that been my Mother's name? I couldn't even remember. I could remember apple green eyes, long brown curls of hair, a candle-powered smile that made the sun seem dim in comparison and a voice that was both giggly and girlish, naïve and altogether youthful.

"Sarah… I don't even remember her name," I said with absent-minded tones.

And my Father's name… I finally knew who my Father was, at least in name.

_Her voice wasn't so kind, it was one of the few times I had heard it motherly and strict, years beyond her face and age. _

"_You never take this off, do you hear me?" she had shouted._

_When I hadn't answered, my eyes glued upon the floor, her palm smacked the side of my face with a resounding crack. The sting gracing my face made warmth rise to my cheeks. I was surprised by her actions, it wasn't often she hit me._

"_I said, do you hear me?"_

"_Yes, Mother." I had answered dutifully, staring up into eyes of green. They were the eyes of the devil, jealousy and hatred. Not apple green, not sweet. Not even beautiful. _

"_Your Father gave this to me. You will wear it. Everyday. With pride. If I ever see you taking your necklace off, I will never let you see Alistair ever again. Do you hear?"_

_It was that threat that made fear spike in my heart. Tears that welled over my eyes and I had nodded as quickly as I could so that I would never be torn away from Alistair. _

"Maric…" I murmured to myself before realization caught me. "_King Maric?"_ I had almost cried out in surprise before attempting to rationalize the coincidences away, "Wait… wait… there are lots of men called Maric." Breaths of fear sliced into my body, the implications too dramatic for me to consider.

Sebastian touched my shoulder, trying to calm me down as I began to lose my breath, "Think about it, Hales. Leandra mentioned to us that you met a Grey Warden called Alistair, a man who greatly resembled your half-brother. As of the time you left Ferelden, there was only _one_ Grey Warden named Alistair and he eventually become King of Ferelden, a bastard son of King Maric. The man whose name graces your ring. The likelihood of that being simple coincidence seems too much, doesn't it?"

"And…" Anders added with emphasis, "This Alistair had a half-sister. Her name was Hales and her Mother was called Sarah. I wrote to Elissa, Alistair's husband. She confirmed the details."

My heart pounded in my chest, thudding loudly. I tried to ask questions but all came out was, "So how did the rest of you get involved?"

Fenris explained, "I sensed something was going on. Something the mage wasn't telling us about. I investigated. When I found out, Anders was still in the process of finding out and we did not wish to alarm you. Knowing that you shared some of your secrets with Sebastian, I told him to distract you."

I rounded upon Sebastian but before I could speak, he reminded me, "You promised to trust me."

I deflated quickly, "So… what happens now?" I asked, not entirely sure what my next step would be. Before they could answer, I exploded.

"WHAT! What are you THINKING?" I screamed, "Maker! Do you even know what this _means_? The Lost Princess! Does that mean anything to you? PRINCESS! I was no Princess! Alistair wasn't even a Prince! We lived in a ratty little room with a scratchy piece of cloth suspended between two poles!" I paced all around the room as the four of them watched me, each of them now wanting to interrupt my rant. "That is _not_ how a Princess lives!"

When I couldn't scream any more, my breath sliced in and out of my form violently. Anders stepped forward to explain, "Alistair… The King Alistair. He's a bastard child. He didn't live a good life either. And the thing is, this King Alistair – he used to live in Redcliffe before he was sent to the Chantry. You were from Redcliffe, too."

Sebastian took over, "You also mentioned that you used to live in some noblemen's house. In Redcliffe, there are only a few noblemen. Let me ask you something, how many servants were there?"

I shrugged and answered easily, "Many. The servant's quarters alone was large enough for me to get lost in."

Anders intercepted, "Exactly. Something that size, you're looking at Redcliffe Castle, home to Arl Eamon and his wife, Arlessa Isolde."

I felt the blood rush out of my face. Isolde. That name. I recognized it. I could no more hide from the facts, no more deny my life's many secrets.

_I yawned and put my head in his lap. I tried to say through my yawn, "I saw _her_. I- Is-"_

_He supplied for me, "Lady Isolde."_

_I grimaced, "She sounds yucky. She's Or-Orle-"_

_Once again, he supplied, "Orlesian."_

_I stamped my foot against the carpet and insisted, "Yucky," before yawning yet again._

I murmured under my breath, "She's… Orlesian. I remember. Blonde hair, brown eyes, her accent was horrific."

My legs went weak beneath me and I stumbled, nearly crashing to the floor if not for Fenris. The revelation was too much. I was… No… No… "No!" I cried out, fearful of what I hadn't known, "How could this be?"

Anders passed me a few letters and explained, "I wrote to the Warden Commander, Queen Elissa. She was the one who issued the order of finding 'The Lost Princess' after I wrote to her."

"Dear Anders,

I must admit I hadn't expected to receive a letter from you and through Grey Warden channels no less. One day, you must tell me how you do the impossible. I knew of your leaving the Grey Wardens but you slipped right from beneath our noses, I do hope you are well.

I questioned my husband about his half-sister. He does indeed have one. He told me that she went by the name of Hales and wore a necklace around her neck that contained a ring. He believed that the stone was red. He mentioned that her mother, Sarah, had told them that Hales had died after getting captured by slavers and killed because she had been too spirited. From the story, Sarah had just managed to get away. Alistair was never quite certain about the story as no body was ever found.

I am quite concerned about all these questions, Anders. Is there something I need to know?

Warm Regards,

Elissa Cousland Theirin"

"Anders,

I think you should speak to your friend, Hales about the possibility of her being Alistair's sister. I have already issued an order that we are on the lookout for 'The Lost Princess' and go from there. If your friend is who we believe she is, we don't want political backlash.

I understand what you are saying, that she wouldn't want any attention given the way she's lived her life. Have no fear. We will not force her into anything she doesn't want to.

If you can, convince her to come visit us. There are many women that are already claiming to be the lost sister of Alistair and the guards are up to their noses with people to question and investigate. Does she have any memories to share?

Also, Alistair reminded me that we met a 'Hales' who resembled the girl he once knew. Has she mentioned anything about that? Is she the same girl that has the ruby ring?

Elissa"

"Anders,

Please convince her to come. Both Alistair and I are convinced she is the one. There are too many coincidences for it not to be the case. Her name is Hales, her Mother is Sarah, she possesses the ruby ring _and_ resembles Alistair's sister?

She must be his sister.

Bring her home, Anders. If she is his sister, he'll want to see her. If she is not, then it was just a misunderstanding. There will be no problems. I guarantee her safety. She'll need to be careful about her magic but from what you've told me, I don't see any obstacles.

Bring her home.

Elissa"

The letters dropped from my hands and I swallowed thickly, "So what do I do?"

Mother told me with a slow nod, "You see him. It has been years, don't you need closure? You need to close your wounds, my sweet." She kissed my forehead before turning sternly to the men, "You will protect her."

It was an order, a demand.

"Wait," I said quickly, "What is going on?" I asked them all.

Sebastian shrugged, dark blue eyes glinting in the firelight, "We're coming with you."

"Why?" I asked incredulously.

Fenris said, "Anders has implied that Elissa is an honourable woman but you are not going without protection."

"So I get my own army, huh?" I quipped with some faint surprise, "Mage, warrior and rogue."

The following morning, the four of us left for Ferelden. All of us were tired and grumpy from the lack of sleep owing to our rushed packing from the night before. I had Bodahn send messages through to my other companions that Sebastian, Fenris, Anders and I were leaving for Ferelden and would send word when we arrived. I charged both Charade and Gamlen to look after my Mother whilst in my absence and with some twitching nerves, stepped out of the estate.

I stared towards the direction of the Gallows. I wanted to see him. I wanted to say goodbye. Would he still be angry? Would he want to speak to me? It had been forever since I had heard his voice or even seen him for that matter. I wanted to tell him I was going. But… I didn't know how.

Instead, I fiddled with my necklace, winding my fingers through the delicate chain and muttered, "Goodbye Carver," before stalking towards the Docks with an energy I didn't feel. I wished he had come with me but once again, I never really gave him the option or the chance.

It was like I resented Carver but I didn't. I just didn't know how to start sharing things with him after all the practice I had of hiding things instead. Relying on him? After everything? It didn't seem like much of an option.

I stared up at the massive sails that towered to the grey Kirkwall sky, looked towards the diagonal plank of wood that bridged between the ship and the pavement, it would be the first time back to Ferelden since the Blight. What lay beyond the horizon?

Were the skies in Ferelden still as blue as I remembered them to be, unlike the dank greyness of Kirkwall?

Were the grasses still as soft, the nights as quiet and lovely, the summer breezes just as light?

Was the life I had once left behind still waiting for me, just beyond the horizon, waiting for me to grasp upon the happiness I had always wanted to have?

I wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

Unlike the last time upon a ship, the trip back to Ferelden lasted only one week rather than two. The wind had sped us along, like the Maker was pushing me towards destiny, towards an unknown that I wasn't really ready to face.

I spent the week nervously pacing aboard the ship, wearing down the wood of the decks until my friend's complained.

What if it ended badly? What if it wasn't really my brother? What if it was? Would he still care for me the same way? Would he remember that I was a mage and hate me?

Would he love me?

It was something I desperately wanted and it was a feeling that felt like a stranger to me. I had never really wanted to be loved, not since being left along Redcliffe's markets. I had wanted to be strong, to be invulnerable. I never wanted to feel the need for someone to love me.

But, whether I wanted to admit it or not, my soul had yearned for it all these years.

I was desperately craving for something from a man of my past in the hopes that I could once again enjoy the dichotomy of being vulnerable but feeling safe at the same time. Like the way I had once felt with my brother.

When we finally made it to dry land, Denerim's docks, I was so jittery I was practically jumping up and down. Sebastian didn't know whether to laugh or sigh with exasperation. Fenris just tried to ignore me. Anders tried to calm me down, "Breathe… You're going to suffocate yourself and die before you even see your brother." I dressed in silken finery, a soft baby blue dress with a frothy skirt and tight bodice.

I laughed with desperation and fear, "Brother. Oh Maker, brother! What if he isn't my brother?"

Fenris had growled, "Then we go back to Kirkwall and call it a misadventure. Valentha… I have never wanted to strangle you quite this much before. Please. Desist."

I had never been to Denerim before. It was all city, like Kirkwall but much more friendly, cosy and altogether happy. The skies were as blue as I remembered, the air smelt like home. Whatever the Orlesians said about wet dog was untrue. Underneath the slight pollutions of the city lay the succulent scents of fresh bread and sweet meats. Bells chimed in the central courtyard and I thought to myself that if flowers could laugh, it would sound as charming as the bells.

There were outskirts, endless fields of green that I knew I could spend hours in but we had no such time now. I would go there eventually, no matter what the turn out and the air would be even sweeter than the city's.

Anders led the way through Denerim, evidently knowing the direction. The four of us got a number of strange looks but no one dared say anything to us. Fenris' sword was probably too intimidating, I giggled to myself, so nervous I found everything funny. At the markets, I tried to stall, staring at clothes and foods but Anders and Sebastian each grabbed a wrist and forcibly dragged me towards Denerim Palace. At its gates, the guards cried out, "Halt! Commoners are not allowed to venture into the palace without appointment."

Anders told the guard, "Tell the Queen that Anders has arrived with Hales. She will understand."

After ten minutes of nail-biting pacing and waiting, we were escorted inside. I passed the sounds of boisterous laughter, guards whispering amongst themselves, the scurrying footsteps of many servants before entering the throne room. From right outside the door, I saw them; both Alistair and Elissa. I recognized them immediately. It had only been a few years, after all.

Elissa was looking well, sitting and waiting with ladylike grace upon her throne. Her dark hair was plaited, thrown over one shoulder with regal form though no crown lay upon her head. A Queen doesn't need a crown to be royalty, I thought.

Alistair, on the other hand, was just as I remembered. Frantic movements, nervous pacing like he was attempting to make a hole in the carpet. That was a trait we shared, I mused, our nervous pacing, the frantic fidgets… well, if he was actually my brother.

Like a gentleman, Sebastian took my hand and slid it into the crook of his elbow as we were gestured into the throne room and properly announced. Sebastian made it a point to reintroduce me, "May I present the Lady Hales Hawke, Your Majesties."

He bowed and I dipped into a low curtsy to follow suit, murmuring, "Your Highnesses."

There was silence as Alistair stared at me, eyes taking in my face before locking with my own set of eyes. The nerves left me. Though my mind insisted that there was always a slight chance that this was not my brother, I knew in my heart of hearts that here he was. Here was my brother.

Light brown hair that stood in tufts, honey brown eyes, the same lips that tipped upwards even when he wasn't smiling, the same strong edge of his nose. He had changed but so much was still the same.

Elissa's voice broke through his thoughts, warmth and encouragement in her voice, "Alistair? Won't you greet our guests?"

There was love there between them. It was no convenient match. She gave him inner strength. I could see it straight away how much she cared.

"Right," he fidgeted briefly, picking at his nail beds before assuming a more formal pose. He said with sincerity though nerves had evidently strained his voice, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hawke. I understand that you were from Lothering?"

I nodded, "Yes, my King. I lived in the farmland surrounding the main town but my family actually came from Redcliffe. It is the first time I have been back to Ferelden since the Blight began."

"Yes," he said, his voice cracking a little, "I remember you from the Ostagar camp, as well as outside the Chantry in Lothering. I was with Elissa and Morrigan at the time." When I nodded, he smiled only politely, "I welcome you back to Ferelden…," then added as an afterthought, "sweetheart."

I felt my friends tense around me, sensing some sort of private meaning or test within the words. I felt the stress fall away, the smile lifted my lips without thought as understanding permeated. _Indeed, _here was my brother.

I murmured, "Thank you, _darling_."

His stance softened instantly and he exclaimed in relief, "Oh, thank the Maker!" before pulling me into a tight embrace, his arms around my waist as he cradled me against him like I was a little girl again. I smiled into his shoulder, recognizing his touch as he murmured into my hair, "I have found my sister. Hales…"

Tears welled up in my eyes as my arms tightened around his neck and shoulders. Here was my brother. The emotional revelation was like an upheaval in my body. Here was my brother. Here was the one person that I had learnt love from. Here was the little boy who protected me from the ugliness of the world as best he could, who brushed my hair and helped me dress. Here was the one person that loved me through those lonely years of my early childhood.

I felt happy. I felt sad. I felt like I had missed out upon years of his life. I felt regret. I felt joy. I felt confusion.

Amongst all that however, I felt loved.

It was as clear as day and it was as though my soul was taking a breath of fresh air after being locked away in an airless dungeon. My brother…

I whispered, "Alistair. I missed you. So much."

As he pulled away to look at me, he brushed my tears away. "No more," he said with conviction, two hands cupping both sides of my face as he stared into my eyes, "No more tears. I won't let you be unhappy anymore." He tilted my head downwards slightly so he could press a kiss atop my head.

Elissa stood from her throne and held her arms to me, "Welcome home, sister." I admit to running to her, embracing her equally as tightly, feeling love wash over me for loving my brother.

When I released her, her voice was bright, caring and already indulgent as though I were a misbehaving younger sister, "I'll have the servants move your things to the sleep chambers. Perhaps, you and Alistair should spend some time together. I'll entertain your friends."

It was then I remembered them again and shouted, "Oh! I forgot! Alistair, Elissa, meet Fenris and Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven. You already know Anders of course."

Embarrassed that I had forgotten to introduce my friends, I fingered my necklace and looked at my feet, blushing deeply. Elissa laughed, light and floaty, "Yes, I'm beginning to see the resemblance between the two of you already."

Fenris stated in even tones, "They share the same nervous fidget."

Alistair and I said simultaneously, "I resent that comment." We stared at each other and all of us laughed before our two groups went our separate ways.

My brother offered his arm to me and I linked my arm in his as he escorted me to a private garden where a small gazebo had been furnished with food and drink, delicate twisting vines of roses climbing up the banisters and pillars in decoration.

He pulled out a chair, seating me and tucking me beneath the table as servants poured us drinks before retreating.

We sat opposite to one another, eyes still taking in the other, still trying to absorb and catch up with the idea that we had actually found one another after all these years.

Alistair commented, "I have to admit that I don't know where to start at all. I've got a thousand questions in my head and I can't separate them enough to make any sense." He smiled wryly, the dimple in his cheek winking at me.

I reached out and pressed my thumb against the indent and smiled, "Whilst you've grown up, you certainly haven't changed much."

"I don't know about that," he said, "don't you think I'm manlier now?" He puffed up his chest in humour as I giggled. After a few chuckles though, his smile slowly faded, "I thought I was hallucinating at the Grey Warden camp. It was like watching an image of a tiny girl grow up instantaneously. You were scratching a Mabari, completely fearless and nonchalant. It was so like you. I had to see you, talk to you, see if you still remembered me but all the words that came out were all wrong. Then… we had so little time and you disappeared."

"I know what you mean," I replied, "You reminded me of that little boy in my mind so much, I nearly had a heart attack on the spot. I felt like my breath was freezing, my mind overloading with images and memories that we shared but I was too afraid to believe you were the same person."

His voice was shatteringly sad, "What happened?" he whispered, "Your Mother, Sarah… she came back with her dress covered in what we assumed was blood and she told us you died." It wasn't possible for his voice to become any more disheartening but I found it could and my heart broke alongside his, "My little sister, the tiny midget of a girl that was both smart and stupid at the same time was reduced to a blood stain on her dress. Maker… I would wake up in the morning and think to see you and realize –" He broke off and my eyes watered.

I tried to focus on the present, blinking away potential tears and swallowing thickly, "I wasn't taken by slavers. That morning, I accidentally showed her my powers, my magic, and she took me out to the markets and left me there by a wagon. She abandoned me, Alistair."

As he shook his head in despair, I placed my chin in my hands and regaled, "I tried for hours to find a way home. I managed to find the farms and then somehow ended up outside the Chantry. My Father, Malcolm Hawke, he found me and took me home. Somehow, I became a part of the family and after about a week or two, Mother and Father decided to adopt me."

Alistair shook his head, "I never did believe her. There was no body and she just… she looked so shifty when she told me the story. And she just- she never even grieved. A week later, I found her with another-" he cut himself short.

"Please, Alistair. I'm almost twenty-one. I know what she was doing with that man the night we were trying to steal food from the larder." I touched his hand and smiled.

When his fingers linked with mine, he confessed, "I don't know whether it was a good thing or not that you were adopted. It was so lonely there in the castle. Isolde –"

I made a face, "Eurgh. I remember her. That awful accent."

He laughed, "I believe your technical term was 'yucky'." I rolled my eyes and he continued, "She thought I was Eamon's son. You were probably too young to remember Eamon but he sent me to the Chantry about two years after you left."

I muttered in sympathy, "You were only ten."

"You were happy with the family, weren't you?" he asked desperately.

I nodded, "I was but you…I'm sorry, Alistair. You told me not to tell anyone that I was a mage. I didn't listen. If I had –"

Alistair gripped my hands tightly in his, trying to assure me that he was here now, "You would have been taken. You wouldn't have been able to hide your talents for long. If you could, you would have been even more alone. I was given to the Chantry! Maybe it worked out the way it should have." He tucked an errant curl behind my ear, "Although, you need to be careful about using your magic here. I don't want the Templars to take you."

I teased, "So the King breaks rules too, does he?"

"I'm a Grey Warden, sweetheart," using my childhood nickname, "I only have a meagre thirty years. Twenty-seven now. I've missed out on so much already in your life. I don't want to miss anymore, sister."

"I- Alistair," I started, "I can't stay here forever. Mother – she's still in Kirkwall. I'd have to go back eventually to see her and then come back," I said with some panic and frustration. I realized with a start that I _wanted_ to stay forever. I didn't want to go home. Here was home.

Although, there was Carver… I violently shoved him aside.

His smile was understanding, "I'm not asking you to drop your life. I'm just asking that you not get yourself captured so I don't see you all at."

"Done and done. Trust me, I've gone to a lot of lengths to ensure that I don't get captured. I live in Kirkwall, the Templars there are kind of scary," I waggled my eyebrows to emphasize my point.

"What lengths?" he asked me with curiosity in his voice.

"Hear about someone in Kirkwall who went into the Deep Roads and struck it rich?" I asked.

"Sure, everyone heard about that. It was right after the Blight and some kid went home with a lot of – Wait a minute." He stared at me with wide eyes, "Please don't tell me that kid was you."

I quipped with a pop of my lips, "Yup. That was me. Nearly died in the process too but I managed."

Alistair commented, "Riiight. Why don't you just tell me everything though I get the feeling I'm going to regret asking."

I laughed, the tone of his 'big brother' voice was just hilarious. So I told him everything. I started with what happened after seeing him in Ostagar, how I was there to tell Carver that Father had died, how the Blight had happened and our family had fled for Kirkwall. I mentioned Bethany's death and the two week long trip on a ship towards Kirkwall, how our uncle had contacts grease palms in order to smuggle us into the city. Alistair listened most avidly, shaking his head in exasperation, sighing in sympathy, laughing as I told him about paying off my debts as a smuggler with Athenril.

Somewhere in between, food was served, rich gravy and biscuits, lemon baked chicken amongst other such delights. Alistair tore off a drumstick and passed it to me, "Your favourite and before you ask, yes, you can eat with your hands."

I hadn't felt so happy, so alive in years. I bit into the succulent, tangy flesh, twirled it around as I explained, "At first, Athenril could protect me from the Templars but eventually, I had made a name for myself and the guards wanted to know who I was. I needed something to hide behind, a noble status, for example."

"Riiight… why didn't you just go to Starkhaven or something?" he asked, like my expedition had been a very bad idea.

I laughed, "Mother had family in Kirkwall and honestly, we couldn't keep running forever." Then I told him about Bartrand and Varric, the Deep Roads expedition and how Bartrand locked us in after getting his hand on some evil, magical idol.

Alistair had cursed, "That son of a bitch! He locked you down there!"

I nodded gravely, "Nearly died. We had to venture very deep into the Deep Roads. We were lucky Anders was with us. He seemed to just know where to go."

"It's a Grey Warden thing," he said like that explained it all.

I shrugged and went on, "Found all these weird creatures that were supposed to be myths. Ugly rock wraith things… it was awful. There was this big one that almost killed me. I got lucky though. I found out that apparently, I have some pretty nifty powers." I brushed over the details, I didn't want him to worry over things of the past.

"Nifty, huh?" he grinned, his boyish smile on his face.

I asked, "Got lyrium on you?"

"Pfft. What kind of question is that? What King carries around lyrium in his pockets?" he asked, rolling his eyes at me.

I grinned and lifted my foot in the air, undoing the heel off my boot. He watched in awe as I explained, "When I was working for Athenril, we needed new ways to smuggle lyrium." I lifted the heel to the table and poured its contents on the side of the table before screwing the heel back onto my boot. He gestured to the pile of glittery powder, "So now what?"

I looked around surreptitiously and carded my fingers to the powder. He stood up quickly, knocking the chair backwards as he exclaimed, his eyes on my uninjured hand, "What in the name of the Maker?"

I hissed, "Calm down! I'm trying to show you something!"

"You just did!" he cried out as he readjusted the fallen chair and sat down.

I asked with an exasperated sigh, "Are you sure you want to know? If you're going to freak-"

"Just do it," he growled waiting for the inevitable.

I lifted my palm from the glittery powder and as I lifted, the lyrium followed, like it felt the pull to my hand. I closed my eyes, focused and absorbed the mana from the lyrium until all of it disappeared. Alistair had watched me with fascination and then grinned, "Neat trick. Where'd it go?"

I told him, "It's inside me now."

He snorted, "Uh huh. Come on, where is it?" I continued to look at him and the grin slowly faded, "Wait… you mean, you just _ate_ it?"

I corrected him, "I absorbed it. I can do that. Lyrium, another's mana, another's life energy… I can absorb that and turn it into my own stores of mana."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, "You do realize most people can't do that, right?"

I nodded, "Anders has been helping me with it. He and Fenris call me a sorceress. I don't think the name matters. I am what I am but it is right because Anders can't cast the same spells I can."

"Who knows? You realize you can't tell just anyone?" he said urgently.

I smiled wryly, "I think I've learnt that lesson in spades. You know and aside from you, Anders, Fenris and Sebastian. Varric knows in passing but nothing in depth. Mother and Charade, that's my cousin, they kind of know something's up with me but no details."

"A sorceress… my sister is a sorceress… is it me or does that sound ominous? Like mwahahaha, I'm a sorceress!" He lowered his voice into an 'evil' voice to tease.

When I shook my head in amusement, he said defensively, "What? How many sorceresses do you know?"

I scoffed, "What the hell did you think Morrigan was? She was a Witch of the Wilds for the Maker's sake!"

"So she's an apostate mage, I don't get it," he said, scratching his head, lips curled like he didn't really know what I was getting at.

"Sorceress is just a generic term but Witch of the Wilds is one section of that, you realize? For crying out loud, you realize that her mother is Flemeth, right? The _real_ Flemeth. The one that eats babies or whatever she does." I told him flippantly.

He shrugged and nodded, "Sure. Morrigan told Elissa that Flemeth isn't even human. She's _the_ Flemeth but she still died. We killed her."

I narrowed my eyes at him, thinking back upon Flemeth's words. I murmured in understanding, "So… that's what she meant," I gestured to him, "Flemeth isn't dead. I can assure you that she isn't."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Flemeth saved us. She took the form of a dragon, saved us and took us to Gwaren. In return, I had to deliver an amulet to a Dalish Keeper who performed a ritual. Inside the amulet was a piece of Flemeth. It was as she said 'security should the inevitable happen and if I know my Morrigan, it already has'. It was all very ominous and vague," I said with an eye roll.

"Creeeee-py," he shivered in disgust, "So she was _inside_ that amulet?"

I nodded, "A small piece, apparently. She probably found a way to split her soul so she could live forever or something. I'm not even sure. I don't think we need to worry. She said to me that our business was concluded forever and I'm fairly certain she knew who you were to me."

Alistair nodded in relief, "She probably does. The Witch probably knows everything," he looked around, "I hope she's not watching me."

I shrugged indifferently, "If she is, we'll just… I don't know, do something she doesn't want to see."

He grinned and shook his head, "What? Like run around naked the way you used to run around the servant's quarters when bath time was up?"

I blushed at the memory and muttered something crude under my breath. He laughed all the harder. It was so easy, I realized, so easy to just be and talk and spill out every secret under the sun.

We turned to other subjects, like the way he had grown up in the Chantry, how Duncan had recruited him. His eyes still turned sad and haunted at the mention of his mentor and he apologized, "I'm really sorry for the way I acted in Lothering… I just –"

I rolled my eyes at him, "Maker, Alistair. I get it. It's fine. I know what it's like to lose someone. Bethany… I watched an ogre smash her head against the rocks…" I sighed sadly, "For a while there, I wasn't certain that I could ever see blood without thinking of her. It's easier now though."

Alistair mentioned his own experiences with the Blight and how he had allied forces to fight and defeat the Archdemon and the horde. I asked with genuine curiosity, "You know… There's something I want to ask. How are you _alive_? Not that I'm complaining or anything but aren't Grey Wardens supposed to die when they kill the Archdemon?"

He grimaced, "Don't ask."

This words said 'don't ask' but his tone of voice told me that something great lay underneath. I grinned, "Oh no. I got to ask," I could sense a story, "What happened?"

He muttered something but all I heard was 'Morrigan' and 'ritual'. "What?" I asked.

Alistair groaned and spat out, "I slept with Morrigan and got her pregnant and somehow, the ritual stopped Elissa from dying when she dealt the killing blow!"

I couldn't get through the words in my head. I stuttered, "Slept… Morrigan… Wait. What? No… you _did not_ sleep with that _bitch_!"

His only response was to smash his head against the table. I was horrified, "How did Elissa deal with that? She must have been-"

"She told me to do it!" he cried out, "Eurgh. It was horrid. Just… eurgh. Next topic, please."

I pursed my lips at his immaturity, "Alistair. Honestly. It's just sex. I get that."

"I felt like an idiot," he fidgeted and picked at his nails, "An impotent idiot."

I cringed at the image, two hands in surrender, "Got it. Next topic. Yes. Next topic."

Alistair jabbed his finger at me with mock revenge in his eyes, "Not just yet. You – Who have you been with?"

My heart sank, realizing that the topic had now deviated to Carver and I muttered, "Oh Maker."

Alistair laughed, thinking that my words were due to the huge amount of stories that I could potentially have, "Oh yes. Tell me. Now. I mean, I was in the Chantry my whole life. There's nothing to share. Different story with _you_! I mean, look at you. All the men were drooling at the camp!"

I sighed, "This is… very complicated territory, Alistair. Are you sure you want to know?"

He sensed my despair, "I get the feeling that this is not a joke at all. It already _sounds_ complicated and you haven't even told me anything."

We walked through the gardens, the sun slowly setting past the horizon. I regaled, "It used to be simple. I was living in Lothering, fell in love with a nobleman's son. We knew it wouldn't last but it made us happy so we saw each other for a short time. We knew he would have to marry a girl of noble birth and I was just a peasant girl then."

_When the night fell, I would sneak out of the windows whilst Bethany was asleep, gingerly climbing over the pane before landing in soft grass. He would always be waiting outside, upon a horse. I never paid attention to the horse, too eager to see him to care about the ride. He would stick out his foot as a makeshift saddle and pull me up behind him. I'd slide my arms around his waist, lean upon his shoulder and he would take me out to the streams and woods. Some night, he would gather food and we would have a very late supper together. Other nights… he would gently push me against the grass of the fields, slide my clothes off my shoulders and make love to me until dawn would rise. _

_He was so handsome, hair the colour of spun gold and eyes as green as the trees. And his mouth… oh, how he brought me pleasure beyond a young girl's dreams…_

"… Yeah, sister. You can skip that part of the tale." Alistair cut through my regaling and I laughed, "I'm sorry. I guess I got caught up. Mikhail… he was wonderful to me. I remember the times he took me on picnics and there would be food and drink. I never drank the wine, never trusted myself around alcohol with others. He always had pumpkin pastries with him though."

Then my mind clicked together. Mikhail. His family had gone to Denerim. Urgently, I asked him, "Mikhail… He's part of the de Silva family. Mikhail de Silva. He came here when the Blight began. Is he a member of your court?"

Alistair shook his head, "No… I don't think so. It's possible that his family was here for a short time. Maybe you should go check the archives. We have scribes that keep notes on court details and attendance so, maybe you can find out something. I'll take you later if you want."

"I'd like that," I said.

"So you were in love with him then? This Mikhail fellow." he asked me as he picked a stray rose from the bushes.

I shrugged, "I was as in love as I could have been at that age but I knew he wasn't the one for me. There was always someone else at the back of my mind but…" I sighed, "Maker, it really is complicated."

"Who?" asked Alistair.

After a sigh, I revealed, "Carver…" and my heart ached so hard that I need to breathe as hard as I could to stop my suffocating. It was like my heart had suddenly opened up and every emotion felt double of what it once was. I bent over a gate at the edge of the gardens, leaning upon it for support as all the missing and regret fell upon me. I wanted to see Carver, hear his voice, even his insults.

I covered my face with my hands as he rubbed my back whilst asking me, "Carver… but… isn't he your brother?"

I nodded, "Technically he is. When I first went home with Father, I was a new addition. He knew that I would need to feel accepted after being abandoned so he cast a spell over my siblings to make them think that I had been there all their lives. Somehow, the one over Carver hadn't worked so well and as a result, he always felt that I wasn't his sister at all. A lot of feelings were there. Non-sibling, non-platonic feelings." I sighed gently and continued, "We used to fight a lot but there was… something underneath all that. It took time to recognize what it was," I leaned into Alistair's shoulder, "but one day, it overwhelmed us. We didn't do anything intimate but everything felt more than it should. We spent the nights out in the gardens talking. We were together though we weren't at the same time if that makes sense."

My brother wrapped his arm around me, sharing my pain, "Then what happened?"

"I knew it wasn't right… I knew that we couldn't keep doing this. I was a Hawke in name after all and no one really knew that I was adopted. What would other people say? I knew he wouldn't understand. I didn't think Mother approved. Eventually after some pushing and pulling, with some nasty words in between, we stopped it completely."

My sighs grew heavier, "He never knew I was adopted. He found out whilst I was at the Deep Roads expedition, he was so angry. I know I shouldn't have kept the truth from him… but if I told him, it wouldn't have helped the situation at all."

Alistair made a face, "Eurgh. I'm no good at this. On one hand, I understand why he's so angry. I mean, come on, the man has the right to know."

"I know, I know… but I just couldn't tell him. After everything that went down when I was a kid… I couldn't bring myself to do it. I hated being vulnerable in front of him. I didn't want to feel hurt like that ever again," then I confessed, "I left Kirkwall without saying goodbye."

"On the other hand," Alistair murmured with a finger at my chin, "I understand how you feel too. I'm surprised you've managed to even keep friends so close to you given the hurt and pain you must have felt. Although… slightly weird that your not-so-brother is your brother and kisses you and stuff."

I managed to laugh, "Don't judge him… he's a good person underneath all that. Then he became a Templar because I didn't take him to the Deep Roads and –"

"Wait, what? He realizes that you're an apostate, right?"

"Yes, he does. He won't turn me in but the separation… I thought I would be over him but I'm not. And I know he isn't either really. Sometimes when Mother and Charade visit, I go too. We never talk and I always stay a room away but I can tell he still thinks about me." I closed my eyes, feeling all the heartache overwhelm me again, "Why doesn't it ever stop hurting, Alistair? When am I going to stop hurting? It's been ages. When do you get over someone?"

"Shhh… it's alright," he comforted, "It'll turn out. You'll see. I tried to find another sister of mine. Same mother, different father. She turned out to be a total bitch but _we_ ended up alright. I found you. Sometimes life throws us different curves."

I fell apart, words mumbled and broken, "What kind – what kind of love is this? What kind of love keeps breaking my heart?" It was the first time that I had ever admitted to myself just how in love I had been with Carver, how in love I _was_ still. I asked him, "What kind of goodbye takes this long?" I confessed, "I know I keep secrets and he deserved to know but… he wouldn't understand!"

Alistair asked, "Does he know about who you really are?"

I shook my head, "About being royalty? For a while I didn't know. Honestly, I _just_ found out. I couldn't have known about it! I guess it doesn't matter," pulling away from the embrace and stared into his familiar brown eyes, "He and I… it won't ever happen. It's too late for us."

"He's going to find out one day, you realize?" he said, a little morose and worried, "If he threw a tantrum over you not being his sister, the man will trip you and beat you down for this secret."

I shook my head, "I'm not after your throne, Alistair. I just want to live my life with my family. I don't intend on being a Princess… Mother is still in Kirkwall and all my friends… My life isn't in doing big things. Well, Father might disagree," I rambled.

He sat me down by a marble bench and frowned, like he was hating himself for saying the next words then he shook his head and I told him, "Tell me. You don't need to protect me anymore."

He stroked my cheek, his eyes concerned, "Hales… You might not get that choice. I don't get to live very long being a Grey Warden. In another twenty-seven years or so, someone has to take over…"

The implication hit me, "And you can't have children…"

He nodded as what was truly being said sunk in, "You'll have to rule sooner or later. I can give you time, Hales. I can, but it can't last forever."

"What – what about Anora? Couldn't she rule?" I asked.

He shook his head, took my hands in his and told me, "Anora isn't really that good a ruler. She is once she's on the throne but the fact that she's willing to do immoral things to get to the throne bothers me. If things go wrong, will she protect herself first or the nation? Not to mention," he added, "She doesn't have children. She can remarry but she's quite the few years older than me. It's unlikely that she will be able to have children before long, biological clock and all. It wouldn't be viable for long and soon, many families will squabble over the throne. I don't want that for Ferelden. It has been through enough."

A sense of duty rose inside me as I realized the potential impact upon the nation. Corruption. Squabbling. It'd be like Kirkwall. No. This was home. Ferelden was home. I tried gently, "We can't do that. I'm not sure I can rule a nation, Alistair. I'll try and take over, help out when I can but… It's a very long road before I can just become Queen."

Even so, a sense of _pride_ filled me. I would be ruling a nation, looking after peasants, citizens, nobles, all sorts of people. Father… would he be proud of me?

Alistair sighed in relief, kissed my two hands and revealed, "I'll be with you. If there are alternatives, we'll look at those. If you end up being Queen, I'm not going to throw you to the darkspawn. We'll work something out. But Anora's causing problems here. Sooner or later, I'm going to need your help.

"Why?" I asked.

"I've heard rumours that Anora's trying to blackmail the nobles into supporting her and –"

I interrupted, screwing up my nose at him in distaste, "That's a disaster waiting to happen. Women can be complete and utter bitches when they want to be."

A tinkling laughter echoed from around the corners and when I looked up, I found Elissa with my friends, each of them smiling at my comment. Elissa teased, "You even insult women the same way! It's uncanny!" I raised an eyebrow in question and she explained with a smile, "He insulted Morrigan the same way."

Alistair and I shared a smile before Elissa commented, "He's right though. When he and I reach our Calling, Ferelden will need someone. That person might just be you. Anora is trying to start a lot of problems. She hasn't succeeded yet but what if she does? We do need help. Our army isn't as strong as it should be given the Blight."

I asked, "Have we got allies? Other nations that are willing to grant protection?"

Elissa gestured to Sebastian, "We were trying to open negotiations with Starkhaven but… Goran has been unresponsive thus far."

I frowned in thought, "Can't we find a way to support Sebastian?"

Sebastian shook his head, "Unfortunately, I will need the support of Starkhaven's nobles as well and that may prove difficult. Not to mention, those nobles will need to believe in the alliance between Starkhaven and Ferelden."

"Don't you have friends in the Starkhaven court that could help?" I asked.

He shook his head. Elissa told me, "There are Ferelden nobles in Starkhaven but we don't really know any of them."

I suggested wildly, "So throw a party, a ball. Something large, expensive and grand that can attract those Fereldens back, if only for a short while and we'll see if we can dig anything up."

Alistair laughed, "What happened to," he whinged in a dramatic voice, "'I'm not doing big things!'"

I cuffed his head, holding him in a lock within the crook of my elbow, "Shut up. You are irritating, brother but you are lucky I love you dearly. Besides," I looked at him sincerely, "Ferelden is my home and I wouldn't let you down. I can't be here every single day… not for a while but whilst I am here," I smiled at him and he returned it as I said, "You'll always have me at your back."

Sebastian took me by the hands and said with gratefulness, "Thank you so much, Hales. Thank you for trying."

I said with honesty, "This is for all of us. You deserve that throne and we can always be there for one another. An alliance between our family and yours would help both of us."

Fenris nodded, "I think this will work. Sebastian, I believe you will be a good ruler."

Snickering, Anders threw his arm over both Fenris' and Sebastian's shoulder, "Of course he will be. He's got Andraste crotch level. She'll make sure he does alright." It was so inappropriate but we ended up laughing anyway.

On the night of the ball, I had been in my room, drying off from the bath. A knock sounded at the door and hurriedly, I threw on a robe and called out, "Come in!"

Alistair peeked in, already dressed in his Kingly finery. In his hands was a huge box, bright red with a large black ribbon tied on top. He wore vestments of yellow and gold with sharp and clean black breeches as well as new boots, shined and bearing no scuff marks. "Déjà vu," I told him, "This is very familiar."

He smiled, "I know," he gave me the once over, "You're still not ready. That hasn't changed."

I stuck my tongue out at him, "I was waiting for someone to come and brush my hair!" He laughed, "Fair enough," and passed me the box.

"Open it," he told me.

I did so, pulling open the lid to find an equally bright red dress, with golden string adorning the silk in patterns of sun and stars. I gaped, it was _my_ dress, _my_ favourite dress only even more grand than I had remembered. The thread twinkled as the light reflected upon it and the red was a shade darker, more mature and sophisticated.

I stared at him, overwhelmed by his kindness as he explained, "You used to love this dress. I thought it would be… fitting… to have it made for you." He gestured to the screen I had set up in my room and squealing, I skipped behind the screen to change, pulling the silk over my skin. When I was dressed, he helped me fasten the buttons at the back and pushed me into the seat at my vanity. We smiled at each other from the reflection of the mirror, as he reached for my hairbrush, dragging it gently through my hair, each curl unfurling and relocking as the brush released it.

"When you resume your place as Princess, I'll have a much bigger room for you," he commented as fingers thread carefully through my strands, "It'll be all yours, office, bathroom, bedroom and sitting room. Much like mine, I suppose. Unfortunately, I can't let you take that room yet. I can't let people talk just yet. They'll say you're my mistress or something."

I grimaced a little before telling him, "I understand. I'm pretty happy as I am currently."

It was true. The room he had given me was large and comfortable. It was evidently a guest room used for noble guests or ambassadors and it was close enough to his room for me to go back and forth.

As he brushed, I applied my powders and lip stains, coating my mouth with a soft red to match the dress. I clipped a section of my hair up so I could place a flower behind my ear.

"There's something I want to show you," I stared conversationally, turning to the satchel in the corner of the room and took out the red-stoned ring as well as the crinkled drawing. I handed them to him and asked, "Do you remember this?"

He gently smoothed out the paper, fingers lightly grazing the faded wax chalk colours and smudged drawing. "You kept this?" he asked me.

I nodded, "Well, Mother kept it for me. She told me that I was clutching onto it when she find me. After all these years, it's come back to me." Then I handed me the ring, "And I believe this should be returned to you."

"Me?" he asked incredulously, "Why would you need to give this to me?"

I shrugged, "It was your Father's. _Our_ Father's. Seeing as you are King…" I trailed off. He made a protesting sound at the back of his throat and slipped the ring onto my right ring finger, "Well if I'm King, then the King says it is rightfully yours." He reminded me, "You are the Princess, after all, as well as my sister."

The ring had once been a burden around my neck, something that I had been forced to wear for no good reason. Suddenly, it was a gift. Once, I had wanted to hurl it out of the window. Now, it seemed right to wear it.

I hadn't been in Ferelden for very long but I felt that change within myself. I felt alive, healthy, happier than any time I had ever remembered. My fears seemed to have slowly released themselves, the burden and knot in my heart sliding away as though a soft breeze was taking the taint away from my bloodstream. Alistair knew all of my secrets and any feeling of doubt, insecurity and fear could be shared with him. He would always be there for me and he would _never_ betray me.

Everything fell into place and my words came easily, "I love you, Alistair. I'm still can't believe I finally found you again."

He kissed my forehead and placed my hand in the crook of his arm, "I love you too, Hales. I'm glad I found you."

The ball began with Alistair and Elissa dancing to the opening waltz. He protected her but she gave him inner strength. She was ladylike, elegant and calm but he softened her edges by lighting her life with humour and fun. He was principled, stubborn and loyal but she tempered him with flexibility, generosity and kindness.

They were perfect for one another and though as a sister, I often saw him as the brother with whimsical, boyish smiles, messy hair, dimples and always rushing his words, I knew he was also a man. He was a King of fine qualities, of strength and loyalty. He was also a lover, a man who could seduce and smoulder until Elissa was not much more than a blushing young maiden.

Watching them together softened me. It gave me hope that one day, I would find someone just like they had found each other.

Then again, I had already found Carver, hadn't I? And I had blown up every chance I had him.

Maybe in another time or another life. Maybe next time, I'd do it right.

The ball had been a grand success. Many of Starkhaven's nobles had originated from Ferelden and many of those had married into Starkhaven nobility. None of them were happy with Goran's ruling and as Sebastian and I spoke to the nobles, all of them wanted a new contestant in the game but there weren't any available options. When they realized who Sebastian actually was, many of them promised to support him when he went to reclaim the land.

After that, Sebastian was in and out of Ferelden during the next few months. He went into Starkhaven to reclaim the throne, tipping Goran off the throne. Then there were weeks which were spent with him stabilizing the nation and rewriting policies for Starkhaven. He came back now and again to check up on me and to discuss treaty stances with Alistair, Elissa and myself.

When it came for Sebastian's coronation, all of us went to Starkhaven. Anders, Fenris and I stood as honoured guests along with the King and Queen of Ferelden and I do believe that we were the ones who clapped the loudest when Sebastian was adorned with a golden crown upon his copper hair. I couldn't believe how beautiful everything was. Starkhaven was beautiful, so was the Chantry there and so was the smile that graced Sebastian's lips.

It was almost a pity that I had never fallen for him for I had never seen him quite so handsome before.

I had cried with happiness and achievement. One of my best friends had become Prince of Starkhaven. He had hugged me, lifted me off my feet and kissed both my cheeks as he laughed and bumped shoulders with Anders and Fenris. We spent a little time there with him in celebration, eating until we were bloated and exhausted from the act of eating itself.

Eventually though, I knew I had to leave and this time, Sebastian would no longer be a constant companion by my side. It caused me much missing and bittersweet sadness but he promised to write me and he was always as good as his word, long letters with the seal of Starkhaven often gracing my table in Ferelden.

Being with Alistair was like being a completely different family but one that I was an intricate part of. He and I compromised that I wouldn't be known as the Lost Princess yet but I still had to learn how to rule. He taught me governance, the structures of nobility, the etiquette of dinner guest placements amongst a list of other things.

One day, after a rather exhausting day, I said to him, "I never would have pinned you for the kind of person who would go through and learn all this…" I trailed off, not knowing how to label it, hands willing about in the air.

"Stuff?" he supplied, grinning at me, "I wasn't exactly given a choice but it was necessary so I did learn it." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing tightly, "You're lucky that I didn't throw you to the mercy of those stuffy, boring old geezers. I wasn't so lucky… Elissa threw me into an ocean of darkspawn."

I shoved him, "Is that the way you speak about Elissa? Aren't you worried I'll tell her and she'll lock you out of the bedroom?"

"Pfft," he made an indifferent sound, "You're _my_ sister. You wouldn't betray me like that. Besides, she doesn't scare me." He quipped childishly, "And if she _reeeally _locks me out, I'll crash your room."

I had shaken my head in amusement, more content than I had been my entire life. I told him, "I can't believe this is happening. I didn't ever think I'd find you again." I laughed, "I can't believe I've been here this long either."

I realized that though I had only meant to stay away from Kirkwall for only a few weeks, a few weeks had already become a good many months. Still, I didn't miss Kirkwall. My family? Yes. Kirkwall? Not so much.

I felt safe. I felt happy. Most of all, I felt loved and the feeling of simply being able to be taken care of, to be looked after… I had always sought independence but apparently, independence could be found even when you were with others.

Independence wasn't about being alone; it was the ability to stay capable whilst alone. It didn't mean I had to isolate loved ones. It didn't mean I couldn't be cared for and looked after.

All it meant was that when the time came for me to stand up, I had the capabilities to do so.

Somehow, the strength I found from that was so much more than being alone.

Still, there was an emptiness. Less than before but there was still something. I now had the family that I had always missed though I had tried to hide from it or ignore it but the family I had known all these years… Mother was still in Kirkwall, as was Charade, Gamlen and Carver.

Half of my heart had always been with Alistair and the other half was now with Carver. In Kirkwall.

Alistair's eyes stayed upon me, fingers touching my cheek lightly to wake me from my thoughts. When I looked up, all I could see was his love for me, all of it like we were still children or like we had never been separated at all.

"Just thinking," I murmured with a smile.

"About?" he prompted.

"My birthday."

My twenty-first birthday had been celebrated with luxury, rich food, style and more presents than I had dared to dream about.

Alistair had known that the amulet around my neck was given to me by Carver and knowing that I might not ever take it off, he had a beautiful bracelet made for me. It was made of pure moonsteel, a simple band that could be coiled either along my wrist or upon my upper arm, decorated with rubies the same colour as my ring. Along with that was a set of ruby earrings surrounded by clusters of diamonds. I had almost given the present back to him but he had shoved them at me, telling Elissa to force them upon my ears and of course, I was hardly about to complain.

It was strange. On my body were the pieces of jewellery that were given to me by the men who mattered the most and although Carver and Alistair should have been equal in my life as both of them were _supposed _to be my brothers, they really were polar opposites right down to the choices in jewellery. Alistair gave me red stones, Carver gave me blue. Alistair made me feel content, Carver made my heart pound with passion.

I wondered if I would ever have the best of worth worlds.

Sebastian had also sent me quiet the relic. A mirror, a magical mirror, that fit within the palm of my hand and could act as a communicator between me and Sebastian. He had a twin mirror, one that was interconnected with my own and almost every other day, some time was spent, staring into the mirror, looking at his face and expressions, talking to him about various on goings of our lives. It was almost like having him right beside me though we were quite far apart.

Anders and Fenris had given me a new stave, bought from The Wonders of Thedas. It was an elegant wind of steel and lightweight metals that twisted into six claws at the top protecting a round silver pearl. The six claws as it turned out were retractable daggers and Elissa quickly began to teach me the art of flinging daggers around haphazardly.

My relationship with Elissa was much like the relationship I shared with Bethany and though I would always miss my sweet baby sister, I was greatly comforted by the companionship Elissa shared with me. She also taught me many things, how to behave like royalty. She was gentle, sweet and patient, correcting my posture with kind words of encouragement rather than punishment.

Elissa adjusted my posture one day whilst teaching me how to glide down the stairs properly. She admonished in soft tones, "You need to pretend there's a string in your body, going through your head. When you walk down the steps, the string is being pulled from the top of your head, keeping you constantly upright, like you don't really want to descent to the mortal realm but have no real choice."

Anders and Fenris only snickered from the side when I nearly fell. Eventually, I understood the concept and even managed to get some revenge. When it came to dancing, it seemed like I was a natural, whereas Fenris and Anders constantly tripped on the steps. It brought Elissa and me no amount of amusement.

She even taught me how to use other weaponry, teaching me to aim and throw daggers. She said, "Magic is good but if your mana runs out or your enemies are too close, you need something more effective." In just a few weeks, she had me practicing every day and soon, I could throw a dagger at a moving target at almost thirty yards. That was quite the feat.

When Carver's birthday came around, I sent a note to him with a 'Happy Birthday' written on it accompanying a new sword, simple and plain, no fancy stones or metal embroidery but a strong sword, made from the best steel that coin could provide. Carver was finally twenty – a man in his own right, he deserved to have something special though the design was mostly plain.

The only special part was at the hilt, the metal there twisted in the same fashion as my stave. It was wrong really to place a mark of possession upon him that would forever tie him to me but I just couldn't stop myself.

Anders, Fenris and I also continued to practice my sorcery. The bond between Anders and I deepened. We could use our mana to convey brief emotions and simple messages to each other. Suspicion, amusement, gratitude, the mana could somehow communicate that between us. Then as time went on, Fenris and I could do much the same. Fenris couldn't convey messages to me thus making our connection mostly one way but the lyrium in his skin reacted to my presence, making it easier for us to protect one another.

The same problems remained though. I could cast normal spells a lot easier, use less mana and each spell was exponentially more intense. However, when I tried to cast sorcery, attempted to create new spells or affect another's mind, I came out shaking and clammy. It was like going through withdrawal for drugs. My body would ache, my nerves turned frazzled and my head spun. This was a problem had hadn't changed.

On the other hand, after all this time spent together, I could see that Fenris and Anders were truly building a rapport for each other and I was very relieved that Fenris would no longer threaten to puncture Anders' chest with his fist. Then one night, when I had arrived late, I found the two of them kissing, arms wrapped up around each other, soft groans welling deep from their throats. I had cleared my throat, watched them jump apart in guilty fashion and then joked, "So Fenris… found a new way of _puncturing_ Anders, have you?"

The two of them groaned at my lame joke and I teased them incessantly about their private relationship. Though I knew it was never mentioned, there was love, affection and trust in their relationship. I was glad for them.

And for myself. Being around so much love made my heart sing with a happiness that I just couldn't get enough of. I felt healthy again, as healthy as I had when I was once a child. The pain of abandonment had left me and I could rely on those around me again.

I was mostly complete but Alistair often reminded me that it didn't count until I settled things with Carver. I always rolled my eyes at that.

I began to play a part in Ferelden politics, helping Alistair shape dynamics between nobles and peasantry as well as between Templar and mages. I encouraged that mages, though kept separately, should be allowed to visit home or have family visit them often. Within weeks, visitation rights were given to the families of mages. Anders and Justice were very happy. Fenris had also mellowed down about mages and highlighted the fact that though Templars kept the mages in line, nothing kept the Templars in line. He suggested that an outside group or individual audit the Templar's behaviour to make sure that everyone was kept in line. The nobles were fairly easy to handle. They had nothing against extra visitation rights and soon, there was a belief that mages were humans and elves and people, too. They deserved to give a good life. Starkhaven followed this policy very similarly, much to our excitement and happiness.

It wasn't so surprising that Kirkwall's mages heard of these changes and defected, escaping Kirkwall and entering the boarders of Starkhaven or Ferelden to live a better life from the Templar abuse.

We also introduced a stricter feudal system between nobles and peasants. It was often rare that peasants lived in their own homes, often living upon the lands of nobles. There was a lot of noise from the peasants that the rent paid was too much, unfair for the land they were allowed to use. We implemented a system. Rent was standardized according to land size. Furthermore, some nobles granted their vassals protection and the payment for such extra services were similarly standardized. Ferelden became a more peaceful area, less rioting and chaotic arguments. The nobles weren't exactly happy about the lowering in their income but the cost came with some amount of benefit, so few obstacles stood in the way.

I never sat in court, in effect keeping my existence mostly a secret. I know that I was often referred to as 'an advisor' to the King but little was known about me aside from the fact that I was female. There were speculations as to my face as some of the nobles had seen me at the ball and some had created rumours that I could potentially be the advisor but no one ever came down with a solid conclusion.

I was incredibly content in Ferelden. Everything was perfect. Sometimes, I completely forgot about my life in Kirkwall. Everything was _here_. Alistair was here. He made me happy, teased me endlessly, worried over me incessantly and crashed into my bedroom late at night with cheese platters constantly. Ferelden was home. That had always been the case. Even Widge, my Mabari, was happier here, taking off into the wild fields, running to his heart's content. He ate more, drank more and slept better than he had in quite the while, I imagine.

It wasn't until autumn struck that trouble heralded, and quickly. There were some more solid rumours that Anora was attempting a coup by blackmailing a few nobles and some of them were attempting to cause trouble in court by criticizing Alistair.

But at the same time, business in Kirkwall required my attention. Mother had written a letter telling me that Aveline needed my help. The Viscount had requested my help with the Qunari problem but seeing as I was in Ferelden, that couldn't have eventuated. The tensions between citizenry and Qunari had risen to new heights. Many thugs had taken the opportunity of turbulence to start attacking nobles. My Mother had been one such victim but thankfully, Charade and Gamlen had been present and managed to kill the attackers. Aveline also sent a note, brief and brusque in tone signalling her frustration at the situation, letting me know that she suspected Isabela's involvement with the Qunari trouble. I was needed.

I had discussed with Alistair and Elissa about the situation. I told them helplessly, "The Viscount of Kirkwall has asked to see me but because I was here, that didn't happen. Things have gotten really bad and Mother was attacked. Maker, what a mess. Why would someone attack the nobles? That's definitely stupid." I groaned, "Damn it. Right when Anora starts causing trouble."

Alistair had shaken me lightly, "Elissa and I are still the rulers of Ferelden. We can hold the fort. Calm down. Your family needs you. Go back to Kirkwall. Send us letters. Visit when you can. I promised I could give you time."

Fenris nodded, "We have spent enough time here. I'm sure the group will want to see us."

I was reluctant to leave Alistair and the morning we left for Kirkwall, I nearly didn't let him go, hugging him hard enough for him to protest, "Hales, you're going to break my bones."

I had just found my happy life, I couldn't let it go so soon. Elissa understood from the look in my eyes. After all, she had lost family too. She touched my hands and reassured, "We'll be fine. Don't worry, you won't lose us. Not for a very long time."

When Alistair knew what I was thinking, he had admonished, "You silly little idiot. I'm not going anywhere! Anora can't do much to me, don't worry."

When I didn't look convinced, he murmured with his heart in his eyes, "You are the only real family I have left. Eamon was never much of a Father, the Grey Wardens were only with me for a very short time… you are all I have left of my old life," he tucked a curl behind my ears, "I wouldn't go down that easily. Your brother is tougher than he looks."

No matter how much I hated it, I didn't have much choice. Fenris was right when he told me, "Leandra needs you. When that is over, maybe you can take her home with you."

I sighed, "And what about the rest of you?"

Anders had answered, "We'll be right behind you. Don't you worry."

I had to be satisfied with that.

* * *

><p>AN: Alrighty, here is chapter 10. Thanks to Mistress Vo for the editing process! Thanks to the readers who have been waiting patiently for my new chapter.

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	11. Secret Magic

**Chapter 11 – Secret Magic**

_Hales_

The city was quiet when I arrived… too quiet. The Docks were almost empty, a lack of merchants and fishermen. Anders, Fenris and I stepped off the plank and all I could hear was the harsh ring of silence. Kirkwall. Grey. Dark. Dull.

Even the wind seemed to cut against my skin.

The thugs had evidently scared off the citizens into hiding. My steps echoed around me, the soles of my shoes clipping along the streets. The dress I was wearing didn't help matters. It was impractical, sweeping along the dust from the walls of the alleys. I had forgotten about Kirkwall. Ferelden had spoilt me.

Anders and Fenris split off behind me to rally our group of companions and I left for Hightown alone. There were a few people loitering about but all of them were quiet instead of gossiping, eyes averting every time they made contact with someone else. With quick steps, they went to their destinations and quickly scampered home.

I rushed into my own estate, thinking of Mother. Bodahn took my bags and I had launched myself towards Mother, checking her over for injuries with quick waves of magic. "Are you alright?" I had asked, my voice cracking a little. It was some worry, some fear and most of all, I had missed her. There were times in Ferelden when I forgot, too happy and too surrounded by love to remember what I was missing but there were other times when I needed my mother's arms around me.

Mother had a tired smile upon her face, probably still a little shaky from the prospect of being attacked in broad daylight. She returned my embrace with some fierceness, "I'm alright. Merrill came by to heal whatever small cuts and bruises I had but I'm otherwise fine. Charade was a great help."

Charade had welcomed me with two open arms, "Welcome back, cousin."

"Thank you, Charade." I said quietly before quickly giving Gamlen a hug too.

Anders and Fenris came back with our group and I ushered them into the library to talk. Aveline was evidently at wit's end, constantly pacing, her eyes angry and concerned, hair at odd angles from where she had pulled at it. I asked urgently, "What's happening with the Qunari?"

Varric held up his hands, "Hold up. You need to tell us what happened in Ferelden first! You were gone four whole months!"

Aveline snarled, "Shut up, dwarf! The Qunari are threatening Kirkwall with thinly veiled threats. They want their relic back," she rounded on Isabela, pointing at her, "and SHE won't help."

Isabela protested, "I don't need to be here. I don't owe answers to anyone!" I could instantly tell that something was going on behind her indifferent façade. She cried out, "I have _my own_ relic to chase down and I'm already late!"

I asked her as she stomped out my house, "Wait. Is your relic linked with the Qunari?"

She said resentfully, "I don't see how this is any of your business. You haven't even been here!"

That was a resounding yes. I knew that. I told her with conviction, my voice carrying strength and command, "No, I haven't. I've had a lot of personal things to deal with. I've helped Sebastian reclaim Starkhaven, I've had my own _past_ to deal with. I haven't been here. All I'm expecting from you is for you to do the right thing. You cannot walk around, entitled and indifferent, especially if you know that you can help. We're talking about the lives of thousands."

Perhaps it was my words or perhaps it was my tone but she raged, eyes fiery with a scorching golden hatred that made little sense to me. Impulsively, she reached for her dagger and threw it at me. She was barely trying and I dodged easily. It embedded itself into one of the books with a resounding thump. She yelled at me, "I'm talking about _my own life_!"

I shook my head and said equally as loudly, "The lives of _thousands_ versus your life. You don't get to be that selfish! I expect you to do what's RIGHT."

Isabela sneered at me, her lip curling at my words before leaving, long bronzed legs striding off. I cursed under my breath, "Damn it to the Void."

Merrill chirped, "Is Sebastian really a King now?"

I shook my head, "The highest title in Starkhaven is Prince. He is ruling though. He's even allied himself with Ali- I mean, _King_ Alistair." I wasn't ready to reveal my identity just yet. Anders and Fenris gave me a concerned glance, trying to remind me that I was supposed to be more careful with my words. No one was supposed to know that I was 'The Lost Princess' just yet.

Varric chuckled, "Wow. That's something. Choir boy is a Prince, who woulda thunk?"

"Back to the topic of the Qunari," Aveline directed, "We need to do something. The Viscount needs help, we cannot let him down. I suggest we speak with him now."

Now? I was too exhausted to speak with anyone.

Luckily, Anders interrupted, "Hold up. Hales needs rest. We need rest. We just got off a bloody ship. This can wait one night." I touched his hand gratefully, sending him a surge of mana to indicate my feelings. He pushed it back to me with a secretive smile. I was so lucky to have so many people to love me and look after me.

Aveline wanted to protest but I compromised, "Look, why don't we all stay here at the estate tonight. We'll all rest here and when once morning has come, we'll go together. How does that sound?" She knew I needed rest and nodded.

With gentle and quick hands, Anders herded me upstairs alongside Fenris who boldly stood by my side without a word. Fenris watched as Anders tucked me into bed with a soft kiss upon my forehead.

I murmured, "Thank you. I love you. Both of you," I looked to Fenris who indulgently rolled his eyes like he hated my affectionate words.

"Sweet dreams, sunshine." I heard Anders' words from a distance, dreaming and falling asleep with a smile upon my face. Everything would work out, I thought, I could sleep first and worry tomorrow morning.

That was true, in a way. The trouble struck by the next morning and there was little for me to do aside from worry.

The Qunari were attacking homes, taking noblemen by the hair and dragging them to Viscount's Keep meant as hostages. Aveline shook me awake violently, slapping my arm as hard as she could to get my attention. She yelled, "Get up! The Qunari are attacking! Come on!"

I had no time to so much as brush my teeth. I quickly dressed, locked my family and servants in the cellars and went out into Hightown, ready for attack. Outside, Aveline told me, "I'm going to round up the guards. You take the rest of them and go for Viscount's Keep. Save the citizens!"

I wasn't about to let her go alone and ordered, "Merill and Varric. Go with Aveline. Keep her safe." They followed my words without complaint.

With only the three of us against many Qunari who attacked us for no good reason, it became very difficult not to become injured. The Qunari were strong fighters, their brute strength enough to slice someone with casual ease. Anders and I being mages made things doubly hard upon Fenris for we could only provide peripheral support especially since my sorcery talents were to be kept hidden due to the fact that it might attract too much attention.

However, we had only made it one street away from my estate when Fenris fell to the ground, his shin shattered by a powerful Qunari's kick. I had protested whilst Anders focused upon healing his lover, "We can't fight like this. We're going to _die_ before we get to the Viscount's Keep. I vote that I use my talents."

They both tried to argue but I shouted over their voices, "There's no point for the two of you to teach me how to be a sorceress if I can't even use that power when I need to. I won't let you two die for me when I can help." They couldn't disagree. I spent a moment, merging my mana stores with Anders and linking myself to Fenris' lyrium and after that, the battle became easier.

Without words, we knew what the other was trying to achieve and each accommodated the other. My new spells created illusions of fire and earthquake where there were none. The Qunari stumbled, losing their balance from my manipulations, leaning upon their great axes to regain ground. That made Fenris' task much easier. When the Qunari grew numerous, I conjured swords in the air, the illusion of metal slicing swiftly through the air at their faces. They were too distracted to attack us. My spells were more than effective, they were unstoppable. Combined with my mana, Anders' spells were tripled the strength of what they were normally. The lightening that issued from his fingers became thick slices of electricity, whipping and cutting like any good sword could. Suddenly, it was so easy, it was almost fun. Fenris had chuckled at their stumbling and I think even Justice was amused through Anders, often sending me his approval through our merged mana.

But once again, my imperfections were shouting loudly at me. I could feel the drain upon my mind, upon my limbs and world. For each spell I cast made me weak, made me want to crawl into bed and stay there as shivers began to take hold. I kept it to myself, not allowing my link with the others to be tainted with the knowledge that I was quickly weakening. I pushed my limits, refusing to bend to my inner blockages. I would feel the effects later, I was certain but I could deal with it then.

Blood spilled, splattering our robes and armour. Dozens of Qunari fell to their knees, fatally wounded, injured or dead but many other good men had died. Though the three of us were mostly unscathed, the Keeps main courtyard was a graveyard filled with mages, guard and Templars alike. I found First Enchanter Orsino on his back, coughing out blood. We rushed to him, Anders healing him as quickly as he could, draining my mana. I winced against it, fighting the urge to cry out.

As we stood there, our guards down, a wave of magic toppled us over. I hit my head hard against the ground and my vision blurred. In the distance was another Qunari, I could vaguely make out his horns but he was armoured and chained, dark plating coating him like a vice. I tried to clear my mind but my drained mana, the injury to my head made it difficult for me to pull myself together.

It lifted his arms in the air, power and lightening called forth as he strode in my direction, stomping closer and closer. I tried to pick myself off the ground but I found myself pushed over by a wall of hardness. It was like a slam against my side and I fell down again. I tried to leave my body relaxed so I wouldn't injure my body too much but a hard arm caught me before lowering me to the ground. Then I felt a Templar's Cleansing Wave, worried for a moment until it weakened me slightly, making my mind blur with confusion and watched as the Saarebas stare at his hands confused before another Templar beheaded him.

I felt gauntlet's wrapping around my wrist and pulling me to my feet. As my vision slowly cleared, still feeling weak from the Cleansing Wave, I was pulled by familiar blue eyes that sparkled despite the lack of sunlight.

"Carver," I whispered and his voice was like music to my ears before his features were clear before my eyes, "You should have been more careful," he berated before disappearing completely, running in an opposite direction. I blinked, thinking that maybe I had hallucinated him. Wasn't that what happened every time death drew near?

Then all the feeling came rushing back. Carver. Maker, how I had missed him, how I had yearned for his arms around me, how I wished for the heat of his body to warm my own on any cool night. And the love… the endless love and heartbreak that I felt every time I thought of him… and now, to see him. Damn it Alistair, why did you have to be right? Why couldn't I have finished healing in Ferelden?

_Because you'll never heal completely without Carver…_

I could hear Alistair's voice in my mind, telling me that my small victories were good but not complete.

Damn it, Alistair! Why did everything always come down to Carver, in the end?

A blonde Templar with a crown upon her head greeted me with an, "I know you." I groaned inwardly and sent a wave of disapproval Anders' way. Meredith. Wonderful. He sent back calming magic, trying to heal my flustered nerves. Cruel blue eyes, flaccid blonde hair, a circlet that lacked lustre and shine. Lips that was thin and ruthless. I didn't even want to look at her.

"The name 'Hawke' has turned up in my report many times." She narrowed her gaze at me, "Too many times." Anders continued healing Orsino whilst Fenris stood behind me in support, ready for trouble.

I nodded, nothing to say. She continued, "The Qunari are taking people into the Keep and may already be in full control. We will need to deal with them."

I told her, "Guard-Captain Aveline has already mentioned this point. They are already in full control and taking all noblemen as hostages."

She shot me a speculative glance, "I see you have bloodied your weapon?"

I quipped, unapologetic, refusing to bend to intimidation or to the lack of mana in my body, "Always happy to help in a life-threatening crisis."

"Good," she said, "I'll overlook you own use of magic… for the moment," she added ominously. I nearly rolled my eyes at her and Justice sent me a wave of anger at her words. I tried to console him, calming him down. I was powerful after all. A Cleansing Wave could only do so much to me.

She ordered, "Head to the Keep, and I'll see if I can find more –"

Carver came back, a brood of men behind him. I felt my heart stop. No, he hadn't been a hallucination. This time… he had been real. And he had saved me. Wasn't he angry anymore?

_Or maybe he'd never have you killed no matter how angry he was… did you think of that, Hales? Are you the only one who cares now? _

Strange thoughts echoed in my mind as he greeted, "Knight-Commander, I have rallied our men and-"

Meredith silenced him with a single slice of his hand, gesturing to me with significance, "Ser Carver, your sister is a mage and _you mentioned nothing_?"

Carver started, "I-"

Anders helped Orsino up and interrupted rudely, "She's not his bloody sister. She's adopted and she's been in Ferelden far too long to be turned in by _Ser _Carver," he said in a rather catty tone. I almost laughed at how bitchy he could be.

I raised my hand to stem Anders' defence though I shot him a grateful look and said, "For now, this is not the topic of discussion. If you're interested in interrogation, you can either do it later or do it now and watch me walk away. Which will it be, Meredith?" I tried to keep my eyes upon Meredith. I could think of Carver later. Much later.

Peripherally, I saw Carver widen his eyes in shock at my answer, his expression berating me like 'Seriously? Are you really that stupid?' and she glared at me, hatred in her eyes before she eyed Orsino with equal disdain, "You survived."

"Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander," he replied sardonically.

"Do not speak. We must strike back. You will –"

"I am a First Enchanter in my own right and I will not follow your lead into battle, sacrificing our lives for _your _vanity."

I rolled my eyes obviously, leaning against the pillar as I said with flighty gait, sardonically pleasant, "Oh yes, let's all just stand here and bicker about Templar and mage troubles whilst the Qunari breed is in the Viscount's Keep and kills everyone!" I chuckled, "That sounds like a great idea."

Fenris hid his slight snicker behind a cough and Meredith glared all the harder. Orsino suggested, "You lead, Hawke. I will follow your lead."

Meredith scoffed, "She isn't even of this city."

I strode off, uncaring to her whims, "Too bad, so sad." I turned to my friends, an imperial crook of my fingers waving them to me, "Coming?"

Outside the Viscount's Keep, an army of Qunari were waiting. Meredith suggested, "We are afforded only a frontal assault."

Orsino argued, "If we do that, we'll die."

I looked towards Anders and Fenris but both of them shook their heads, signalling for me not to reveal my powers. It was probably wise and so I nodded, feeling Carver's eyes watching me the entire time. I shot him a look, daring him to speak but his eyes weren't challenging, just neutral as though observing. I relented, feeling guilt shoot through me. Meredith turned to me, "Decide quickly. We need to save our citizens."

I looked to the elder mage, "Will you be able to distract them _and_ survive?" He nodded. "Good," I said, "you distract. I'll go in with my friends."

Meredith snarled, "Ser Carver, you will follow your… whatever she is… and keep your eyes on the situation. I want a full report when this is over."

"Of course, Knight-Commander," he said with a slight bow. Humility, I mused, how very unlike him. He readied his blade and with a start, I recognized the weapon. It was the one I had made for him. He was using it! I almost smiled at the thought. As I followed suit, readying my staff in my hands, two sets of patterned weapons gleamed in the torchlight of the Viscount's Keep.

Carver stared at the hilt of his sword then towards my staff, realization dawning easily in his eyes as he found the similarities of our weapons. This wasn't something I had been prepared for. When I had Carver's weapon made, I had thought of the similarities, my way or placing a mark upon him so he could never forget me but I never thought that he would ever find out.

His eyes roamed my face and our eyes locked momentarily. Worry. Guilt. Fear. Affection. Something else. Was it love? Did he love me, too?

Fenris hollered, "Come Hales, we waste time loitering out here."

I sipped upon a quick mana potion to keep the shivers at bay and left. We didn't watch Orsino or the other Templars attack the Qunari. We only snuck into the Viscount's Keep as they rushed away from the door and hoped for the best. Within waited a Saarebas, a Sten and a few other Qunari. Carver was on the Saarebas in a second, another Cleansing Wave effectively stopping the Qunari's magic. Though Anders and I were slightly weakened and Anders had yelled rudely, "Watch your fucking aim, Carver!" the two of us mages managed to keep each other strong.

Knowing that I probably shouldn't expose my powers to Carver just yet, not knowing where his loyalty lay, I stood behind Anders, pushing all the mana I could into his body. Lightening flowed from almost every part of his body, decimating a few of the Qunari in moments. Volatile, blue light sizzled in the air, thick blue-white whips of electricity slashing through the air. When bodies lay at our feet, Carver accused Anders, "What was that? That was no common magic!"

Anders glanced at me for a second before looking back to him. Carver noticed the slight communication and rounded on me, "What is going on?"

Suddenly, I felt anger coming from no where. Why was he so suspicious of me? I wasn't a blood mage! I felt like all the years of frustration was just spilling out and irritation was rich in my blood. I gritted my teeth and said in a mock civilized tone, "You will be satisfied to know that it isn't blood magic, _Ser Carver_."

As I strode off towards the Viscount's throne room, I heard him curse me, "Maker damn you to the Void, Hales."

Good. At least I wasn't the only one who was irritated.

_Carver_

Hales was different, she had changed. When I had found her, saved her, I had looked at her but I hadn't _seen_ her. The shock hadn't registered that she was in Kirkwall, her changes hadn't settled into my mind just yet. The Qunari were so immediate a threat that I had no time to think.

Then she had spoken to Meredith and it was then that wave after wave of shock and surprise overwhelmed me. It was Hales but it was not so. I felt my body stirring restlessly as the first wave of overwhelming revelation came over me.

Her voice, far too soft, echoing with sexy and sensual undertones. The Templar's relaxed around her, like she was the epitome of sweetness. It was far too mesmerizing, too syrupy, for my liking, at least in front of other men. She could talk to _me_ like that in private. Yet, her voice was more than beautiful, it was commanding, powerful. From where did she acquire such hypnotic dominance?

Then it was her cynical, throaty little laugh that belied that heart of spitfire within, sparks and flame. Fire and fury, courage and bravery, maybe even a little stupidity. Who the hell spoke like that to the Knight-Commander? Only she would dare such a feat.

There was still something about the rest of her. She was always lovely. Her lashes were long and heavy, lips lush and full, skin always porcelain and flawless. There were probably poems about her beauty after the string of broken hearts she left in Lothering.

But now… Maybe it was her hair… it was darker than I remembered. It used to be chocolate brown, very dark chocolate brown. Now, it was almost even darker or perhaps it was simply the quality of her hair, luxurious and shining in a light reminiscent to a raven's wing. It was longer too, a cascade of shimmer tickling at her lower back.

Or was it her eyes… they seemed more intense than I had remembered them. They were just… different! It was difficult to capture exactly what it was about them. Her skin just seemed to glow. Maybe, she was happy? But it was so much more than that. Every detail about her was the same and different at the same time.

Her choice in armour didn't help much. It was shaped like a long-sleeved leather top, tight at the waist, collarbones exposed begging to be nipped on. Unlike most mages, she wore pants – leather pants – equally figure hugging. She was wearing what those female vigilantes wore in the trashy novels. The ones that men painted their sexual fantasies upon.

Staring at her made my previously forgotten frustrations rise up again. Every irritation, all of her secrets, the anger that I thought had dissipated was back, welling up to the surface once more.

For so long, I was beginning to truly appreciate what Hales had done for me. Her silence was her way to keep me safe and protected, ensuring that no slander would be spoken against our family. I also began to realize that worthwhile things were found in the heart rather than in actions without reason. What was worthwhile was not becoming a Templar. What was worthwhile was protecting Hales. And wasn't it funny that everything always came back down to her?

I thought the hatred within me had dissipated. I had been more than happy to receive her birthday gift. The sword she had given me served me well during my days. It was simple, practical and very expensive from what I could tell. The only decoration upon it was at the hilt, where the metal had been twisted like plaited branches of a tree. It wasn't until now that I realized how similar my weapon had been to the fashion of hers.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was a mark of possession upon me. She wanted us to have the similar things, to be partnered, to be in union. Somehow, touching the sword she had given me seemed to burn my hand like her hand was upon my body. I didn't know if I wanted to throw the weapon to the side or keep it closer to me.

It had been years – when were we going to end? Would we ever?

I cleared my thoughts as we entered the throne room, the beheaded Viscount Dumar a sordid trophy at Hales' feet. She groaned and murmured something to Anders before stepping over the head, readying herself with the Qunari.

I tuned out the conversation, keeping my eyes on the restless Qunari, all of their fingers twitching to grab their axes and kill everyone. I could see the bloodlust in their eyes, could read it in their movements and stance. It wasn't until Isabela turned up, throwing a dusty old book at the Arishok that I paid attention again.

She protested to Hales, "I was half-way to Ostwick before I decided to turn around. This is all your fault, Hawke. Your damned words kept echoing in my head!"

There was relief in Hales' smile, "Thank you so much, Isabela."

It was too soon for relief. The Arishok claimed, "We will leave. With the thief."

Isabela gasped, her face turning pale and Hales stood forward, "No."

I tried to catch her eye. Was she crazy? When that failed, I looked towards Fenris and Anders in concern. Both of their expressions mirrored mine. The Arishok stepped toe to toe with Hales, towering above her, "No?" he questioned.

"You will not take her. You can leave with your brethren or this ends another way, Arishok." She said, her voice full of authority and command. Everyone was surprised by her words, how was it that such a young mage girl could hold the power of regal command in her voice? Even the Arishok seemed taken aback, his eyes narrowed to better estimate her qualities but he signalled for his men to attack anyway. A group of six came at us and I snarled at the display of unequal odds.

Though I dropped into a battle stance, keeping my feet apart and my sword ready, I saw that Hales never even moved. A blue sphere encased the four of us, wispy and transparent yet not even the strongest metals could break through. My guard fell as I watched in surprise, not sure what to expect.

Hales was the eye of the storm. She stood still, calm as a summer's day whilst the world shook around her. Lyrium breezes flowed around us, her hair shaking around her face. Without even blinking, the sphere grew larger, pulsing and contracting, pulsing again until it exploded, throwing the Qunari back against walls or the floor. As they got up and charged again, the air turned chilly, icy and as I stared down at the floor, there was ice coating it, smooth and flawless. It started at her feet, spreading across the floor like a ripple, ice crusting over. Once it passed my feet, the ice became jagged, growing exponentially larger, large pillars of ice savagely thrusting into Qunari bodies and ripping them apart or suspending them in the air, penetrated by ice, prostrate and facing the ceiling.

I wasn't sure if I was in awe or if I was horrified. Four months in Ferelden and she had become powerful? Could it be that simple? No, surely not. Nothing in the Templar archives had ever spoken of such dramatic magic. No one in the Circle could have taught her this.

What was Hales?

"Parshaara!" cried the Arishok. I imagined that it was probably some Qun word for 'enough' or something, "You are basalit-an after all, few in this city command such respect."

I thought I heard Anders snicker under his breath, "Damn straight," and judging by Hales' secret smile, that was probably the case. He knew of her secret, whatever it was. It wasn't blood magic. No matter how much Hales had changed, I was certain she wouldn't use a demon. So what was it? I knew some Chasind legends, remembered Flemeth… Was Hales another Flemeth? Was it possible?

In our days growing up, she hadn't displayed such power but then again, I thought cynically, what did I ever know about this girl? She was a stranger.

The Arishok growled, "I will not leave without the thief. How do you intend to settle this?"

Fenris called out, "Arishokost! Qun-anaam ebra-toh." I looked at the elf, not entirely knowing what was being said. I didn't speak Qun and I didn't expect an elf to know the language either. He continued, "You have granted this woman basalit-an. By this admission, she now has the right to challenge you."

The Arishok tilted his head in regard, "You know our ways."

Fenris continued, "Respect is hard won but it also earns privilege."

He actually shrugged, the hulking figure of the Arishok shifted and I could almost feel vibrations under the floor, "What say you, Hawke? Do you agree to that duel?"

The implications hit hard. Hales? Duel the Arishok? I yelled out, "No!" as Isabela said, "Duel me!"

She silenced us with an imperialistic look, her hand slicing through the air, "Very well. Give me a few moments to prepare." As the Arishok nodded, we entered a side room, closing the door for privacy. Isabela told us, "I have rope. We can," she pushed open the window and indicated downwards, "climb down."

Fenris snarled, "Be quiet. It is because of you that we are in this mess." He stared at Hales, she looked between him and Anders, communicating silently.

I interrupted, "You can't seriously be entertaining the thought of defeating the Arishok. What were you even thinking, telling the Arishok to duel her?" Fenris was insane. Hales was powerful but she was still a mage.

"It was that," he told me, "or all of us against all of them. We will surely fail."

"Shit!" cursed Anders with fear in his voice, "This isn't going to work! Hales –"

She stated in a superior tone, "I will do what I believe is right but…" she went to Anders and said meaningfully, "I'm going to need help."

He clutched her hands tightly, "Whatever you need. Anything."

"Well, we already have that," she spared Isabela and I a glance, "… thing… and we can do that… thing… and I'll try and be gentle," then she chuckled timidly as he grinned, evidently knowing what she was discussing, "but… you might need some… um…well, lyrium potions, actually."

Gentle? What was she planning on doing that required her to be _gentle_? Violent, sure. Rough, absolutely. But gentle? Really? And lyrium potions. Why would Anders need lyrium potions? Surely, she was the one who needed those?

I completely forgot to be irritated about her evident secret keeping.

Isabela seemed equally as confused but she grabbed a few vials from her pockets, "Here. I took these from a dead body." I offered the potions I had confiscated earlier as well. Anders nodded in thanks, putting them in his pocket, "Hales, you take what you need to. I don't want you trying to be _gentle_. That's stupid."

It was _then_ that she decided to be nervous. "I just hope it's going to be enough. I don't really know how great I'm going to be at all this… what if I use too much mana? Maker… What a mess. What a mess."

Fenris shrugged, "You might want to use as many of those illu- _things_," I grit my teeth at the lack of detail as he spoke, "and keep him distracted. If he gets to you, that's it. I hope you understand that."

I blurted out in a rush, "Let me fight."

Everyone looked towards me but all I could was her. The entire world dissolved around our feet as chocolate brown eyes stared into mine, full of fear and wonder and even something more.

Affection took over. Beautiful, more so than ever. No matter how little I knew of her, I had watched her grow, turn confident then beautiful and now, majestic. Her beauty was unparalleled and her once mysterious countenance had sharpened, become seductive and feminine.

Just what had this little mage gotten herself into that gave her such beauty? My heart thudded in my chest, my blood rushing through me so quickly that I almost felt light-headed. I repeated dumbly, "Let me fight. For you, I mean."

Hales swallowed then looked to the others a little awkwardly. Knowing what she wanted, they left the room. The click of the lock announced my privacy. The tension reigned. Her voice was thick, "Carver…"

I shook my head, "Let me do this, Hales. You won't-"

"Shh," she hushed me, her fingers upon my face, stroking lightly from my temple to chin, "Believe in me, Carver. I know what I'm doing. Believe that I'm doing what's right." She touched me with slight desperation, searching and learning, like she had been wanting to touch me for a while.

I closed my eyes from the sensation. So long it had been since I've felt her touch. I nuzzled her feminine hands, soft and smooth, her fingers delicate and tapered. I kissed her palm and murmured her name helplessly before asking her, "You won't compromise here, will you?" It was pointless to fight and my tone was resigned.

The frustration was rising inside me again and after another defeated groan, I slammed my armoured fist into the wall, leaving an imprint in the plaster. I snarled at her, "You won't survive this, you idiot!"

Her smile was content, a stillness and calm that were both the epitome of grace and maturity. She said, "How do you know? It'll be fine. I'll be fine."

I hated the fact that her voice could soothe my frazzled nerves. I didn't want to hear 'it will be fine'. It irritated me to no end. "What do you know?" I challenged, "One slice of his axe and you're history. You'll just be an insignificant splotch of blood marring the floor! I won't let you do this. You're a mage. A mage! You can't handle this. This isn't negotiable, Hales." I forced her into a proverbial corner, trying to make her see reason. Of course, it was futile effort.

A spark of fury lit up her eyes, her voice chilling me to the bone, "I am _not_ the woman you used to know and you are _not_ responsible for me. Do your job, _Templar_ and I will do mine." With storms in her eyes, she turned on her heel, the leather strips that tied her leather armour whipped about her dramatically.

She was going to _pay_ for calling me that. I grabbed her by the leather strips, pulling her towards me and undoing the tie accidentally in the process. I pressed her against the table, one hand cupping the curve of her bottom to push her up onto the mahogany, moving to stand between her legs. As she struggled, it only provoked me and my rash impulses got the better of me. My hand slid underneath the bottom of her loosened armour and searched for the waistline of her pants before roughly shoving my hand down to caress that deep crease of her buttocks.

Hales exhaled sharply in surprise before crying out in a soft moan, thoroughly distracted. I wanted to feel her closer, to feel her heat all over me and with a groaned out curse, I took her mouth with my own, pressing my erection against the apex of her thighs, letting her feel my need and arousal through the thankfully unrestrictive skirts of my Templar uniform.

She was hot, I could feel it through the many layers of cloth between us, her hidden core must have been slicked with heat. She was needy, the way her thighs clenched around my hips proved it. She wanted me, I lost myself in her arms as she threw them around me, returning my kisses with equal parts innocent sweetness and rushing passions, body pressed up invitingly against mine.

And she was close, two gentle thrusts of my clothed hips, a fingertip trailed against the crotch of her pants and her eyes flew open wide, a surprised cry caught in her throat as her body shook in my arms. Her climax took me by surprise. I watched her eyes glaze over in vulnerability then flutter shut, felt her quiver and heard her moan out, completely lax in my arms.

All the petty revenge I had in mind flew out the window. I wanted nothing more than to carry her home, strip her down and make love to her, hips deep, until the both of us screamed out. I forgot everything and held her to my body tighter, pressing my lips upon hers with a quick, firm kiss.

Her body stiffened in realization, her eyes flew open again, fury and humiliation sparkling in her eyes was my only warning before I was sent hurtling back towards the cupboard, smashing against the wall. Hales snarled, savage and barbaric, "I am not the girl I used to be. You don't get to kiss me and throw me aside like a plaything again. Not now. Not anymore!" With a huff that sounded like she was berating and cursing herself, she stalked out.

Stars lit up behind my eyes and it took a few moments to recover. I was going to chase after her, I thought to myself. Of course, she wasn't the girl I used to know. The girl I used to know didn't give me open-mouthed kisses that tasted like summer rains, didn't throw herself into my embrace like fire was burning her body. I felt very self-satisfied despite the heaviness that still beat between my legs. Next time, I thought, she wouldn't have pants to protect her. Next time, I would feel the scorch of liquid honey all over my fingers.

I walked out of the room to see her exchanging some last words with the Arishok. The Qunari. I had completely forgotten. Maker, I had forgotten! I wasn't sure if I wanted to beat myself for not convincing her or laugh at myself or just watch in fear. A little of all three.

I watched the steely glint in her eyes harden even more, unforgiving and cruel. It was like she hated, everything about her was fiery hatred and cold disdain at the same time. She was fuelled by frustration and irritation and judging by the contemptuous look she threw at me as she readied herself, what had just occurred was fuelling her determination to succeed too.

Just for a few seconds, the whole world paused, slowing down to a standstill.

Here was the centre of the world, readying herself to fight the Arishok. There was no hesitation, no fear, no uncertainty as she whipped out her staff. No, this wasn't the same girl I used to know. She was the eye of the storm. She stood still whilst the world shook around her. She shaped the world. She changed the world.

When the duel began, I very nearly cried out in fear, arousal and petty revenge completely gone. The Arishok charged and Hales slipped out of his target easily. My breath caught in my chest. Too close. This wasn't a fair fight at all. I looked at Anders and Fenris and though both of them were concerned, they were more focused than fearful. I hissed, "What do we do?"

Fenris said evenly, "We watch."

When he said that, I turned my eyes back to the duel. Hales was doing nothing. She weaved out of the way when the Arishok charged, turned and pranced as he swung his axe her way. Then out of no where, swords whistled through the air, aiming right for the Qunari's face. Whilst his swung wildly in protection, his axe slicing clean through the swords, it became clear that those swords were only a distraction.

Anders muttered to Fenris, "Odd. Illusions take much more mana than this usually."

He replied, "Perhaps she is using your–"

"No," interrupted Anders, "she isn't. That is very strange. Normally, the adverse reactions would have taken effect by now."

The two cast speculative eyes upon me but I wasn't exactly sure what was going on. I turned my eyes back upon Hales, keeping my ears pricked for information from the two of them.

Hales cast a cone of cold that was so powerful that I shivered and the Arishok became a statue of ice. She unsheathed a dagger from her staff and thrust it through the thinnest part of the ice she could find and into the solar plexus of the Arishok. Blood tainted the ice, warming it from within, slowly melting and she readied herself, running backwards to ward against the Arishok's escape.

I eyed her staff. It was a strong piece of steel with claws at the top surrounding a spherical ball that resembled a pearl. As she slid the dagger back into place, I realized that the claws were not claws at all but six different daggers to be pulled out at will.

When he was free from his icy enclosure, he ran towards her, his axe swinging wildly. Her staff deflected briefly but the impact threw her against the floor. A solid mind pulse kept him off her and they both got up at the same time, bloodied and bruised. It was then that I saw Hales bleeding. Her upper arm bore a heavy slice as did her stomach, blood poured profusely, dripping in pools upon the carpet and her face became ashen. The crowd around me gasped, drowning out my fearful call of her name.

The Arishok snarled in rage, stomping his feet in tribal custom. He charged at her but suddenly, there was more than one of her. Two. Then four. Then eight. As I stared around in confusion, I wasn't sure which Hales was the real one. He stared around, confused as to which one he should attack. All the images of Hales stood around him, taunting him with laughter, all of them attacking him with various spells of lightening, ice and fire. It really wasn't a fair fight at all, I thought to myself. Hales was more powerful than I had given her credit for.

As the Arishok attacked one, then the other, realizing that the ones around him were all distraction, he roared in frustration. I looked towards Anders, watching him down two lyrium potions at once and asked, "Where is she?"

As he shivered from the taste, he motioned towards the balcony that overlooked the main duelling area. She was hiding behind a pillar, healing her injuries and gesturing with her hands for Anders to drink more. I could sense that Hales had to be using Anders' mana but how? None of this had ever been documented at the Gallows. Fenris answered my question, "She and Anders can merge mana. As such, she has double the stores." What? I thought to myself. That wasn't possible!

"Not that this matters right now, she's still bleeding." He downed the rest of the potions, gulping them as he went and cursed, "Shit."

"What? What?" I asked him.

"She's not injured but she's lost her mana." He told me, his face grim and gestured to Hales with open palms that he had none left.

Fenris commented, "She should have lost her mana long ago. She has never been able to create illusions capable of true attack."

"That isn't consolation, Fenris." Anders snarled, "All this is nothing more than a stalling technique unless the Arishok decides to suddenly drop dead."

I stared out into the bloody arena. The Arishok _was_ weakening but he wasn't about to die just yet and the many images of Hales were slowly fading, each of the spells diminishing quickly. He roared out, the walls shaking with his ferocity, "Come out and fight me!"

I stared out, trying to work out a strategy. Hales was hiding near the throne and the Arishok was by the main door way. How much time could she buy? He resorted to finding her manually, searching groups of nobles to see if she was hiding anywhere. With his back turned to Hales, I watched her slide out her daggers.

The first two went whistling into his upper and lower back and he straightened up with a loud howl, almost bellowing down the walls. As he eyes found Hales, standing on the podium, she readied her third dagger. As soon as he began charging, several glints of silver flew across the room. One embedded in his shoulder, another in his stomach. The Arishok stumbled backwards a little, pulling at the daggers, blood sliding down his grey and toughened skin like a sick waterfall.

Then she stopped, readying her last two daggers. She was waiting for something. I could see it in her eyes, focus and concentration, lips mouthing as she counted.

He began charging across the room again, another dagger flying into his chest to make him stumble right across the threshold towards the middle of the room and I watched her throw her last dagger high up into the air. I was thinking with a sickening dread that her aim really needed improving because that surely wouldn't kill him when the chandelier crash landed right atop the Arishok, a huge explosion of broken glass vibrating the entire hall. Glass was firmly embedded into his skin and the main hooks of the candelabras penetrated into his body, keeping him firmly against the floor.

Everyone had the same dropped jaw look that I did. Even Fenris' eyes were bugged out and he was the most violent out of the group. I stared at the Arishok, not entirely sure whether to be shocked, surprised, amused or sickened. It was almost fitting that he be defeated in such a brutish manner. Her walk was casual and pained as she made her way towards his prone form. She was weak, face pale and her arm still bleeding though it appeared a scratch next to her previous injury. Her armour was drenched in blood though the darkness of the material made it difficult to see.

Hales stood before him, tired and exhausted, eyes soft and lacking their previous aloofness. A soft purple glow emitted from her, warming and swirling with sky blues, almost soothing but powerful and alien. It was like a link, a pathway between her and the Arishok.

Beside me, I heard Anders sigh in relief.

"What's happening?" I asked.

He replied, "She's converting his life energy into mana and sharing it back with me."

The battle was essentially over, it was just a matter of killing off the Qunari, which Hales was doing – slowly. I shook my head, "I've never heard of such magic."

Fenris told me, "Of course not, you are just an ignorant Templar."

I didn't even bother contesting that point. I asked, "What is she? How can she do these things?"

Anders shrugged, "She's a sorceress. A powerful one though she's still learning and having some troubles now and again. She seems different, doesn't she?"

I nodded, "Beautiful… but more than that. Like calm and still but so sure of herself. It's uncanny."

Fenris actually smiled with some pride, "Her powers make her beautiful though she doesn't realize it and it seems that she's becoming more and more powerful."

"I have some concerns and theories about that," said Anders before he rounded upon me, "What happened between the two of you in that room?"

"That's not any of your business," I told him.

"I see," he said, instantly understanding the implication of what had transpired.

I asked, "What powers does she have? Can she communicate with spirits? What –" I broke off, unable to really explain my question.

Fenris said simply, "She isn't a simple mage. Her spells are different to the ones taught in the Circle. Illusions, pulses, shields… There are still many things she could learn. She refused the seduction spells believing it immoral and she refuses to learn how to manipulate and control a mind but there is much she can do. Aside from that, I can't tell you. She's got a lot of secrets and whether she's asked or not, I'm obliged to keep them."

I was incredulous, "How many more secrets could she have?"

They kept quiet and we watched as the Arishok took his last _pained_ breath and Meredith charged into the room. It was all so anti-climatic.

The Knight-Commander asked, "Is it… is it over?"

Hales nodded, silent and still. Her face was pale and her hands shook, though she tried to control it as best as she could. As the nobles cheered, laughter and relief reigned, Meredith glared at Hales some more before grudgingly praised, "Well done. It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion."

There was tension here. I could sense it something brewing underneath the surface, something even more deadly than the Qunari invasion.

Then Flemeth's voice was in my mind, echoing in my ears, _"Hurled into the chaos, you fight… and the world will shake before you…There are men who embrace destiny; these are the ones that change the world forever." _I would never know whether Flemeth was actually speaking to me or not but the words continued to echo for a very long time.

I sensed that the Qunari trouble had ended but knew that trouble had just started and somehow, Hales would be right in the middle of it.

I remembered her words to Flemeth, spoken when she was very young. _"Not all enemies are mine to fight. I will fight when it is my battle."_ What was Hales about to be embroiled in? She had chosen to fight the Qunari. What else would she battle against? Meredith? Did she dare?

_Of course she would dare, what doesn't Hales dare to do?_

My inner voice taunted me and it was right. Hales didn't shy from the battles that she felt were worth fighting for. She dared to do a great deal many things. She was strong enough to hold up the world and in her opinion, strong enough to do it on her own.

Hales was wrong though. She was skilled, more than just in her mage talents and whoever taught her to wield a dagger deserved a huge thank you note but she had been very lucky, too.

It could have gone all wrong today and she was too naïve to see it. I watched as she strode out the door, too tired to even smile but not tired enough to shoot me a superior and condescending glare.

No, she didn't see how close she had come to having her world broken. Not even her friends saw it. They thought she was powerful and took that for granted. They had feared for her but had thought she would be fine.

We had almost lost her and it was as though no one realized that but me.

I had almost lost her. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to brush the fear and relief aside as Meredith began to round us up. I followed into the line of men but my thoughts were still a whir.

I wanted to shake her until she woke up and realized that she was more vulnerable than she realized. I wanted to kiss her until she opened up and allowed me to look after her. I wanted to hold her until all of her secrets poured out of her and she knew she could rely upon me.

My mind was made up.

I would have her.

And soon.

* * *

><p>AN: To all my readers, my apologies for taking so long for this update. Unfortunately, my uni degree has chanted my name, forcing me to attend to the ever growing number of assignments I have. Hopefully, Chapter 12 and 13 should be up relatively soon.

As always, a shout out to Mistress Vo for my editing work!

As always, please R&R! I'd love to hear what everyone has to say.

And as always, you have my love,  
>Ann<p> 


	12. Secret Suitor

**Chapter 12 – Secret Suitor**

_Hales_

I didn't allow myself to weaken until two steps outside Viscount's Keep. Then the withdrawal symptoms came. I fell onto my knees and began shivering, limbs refusing to cooperate, body heated like I was running a fever. My joints ached. My head spun. I felt nauseous and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed until the shakes wore off.

Fenris was upon me in a second, arms scooping me up so he could carry me home. I managed to stutter out, "I have… mana."

Anders cast me an unimpressed look, "I know. You've pushed yourself beyond any limit before. I'm starting to think that it doesn't much to do with whether you have mana so much as it does your body disliking how you push your limits without your blockages being freed. You've done more today than you ever have."

"Didn't…Did- Did not have a choice," I answered.

He relented, "I know but it still isn't a good thing."

Fenris countered, "Not true. She pushed her powers many times today. She did not waver until now. That is improvement."

Anders' eyes surveyed me piercingly, "And I'm starting to wonder whether Carver had anything to do with it."

I blushed and buried my face into Fenris' chest. Of course it had. When I first pushed my powers against the Qunari in Hightown, I was close to shivering but held it off at bay. The moment Carver had touched me whilst saving me from Saarebas, I had felt restored somehow and there were no threatening aches or shakes.

But then in Viscount's Keep… my face flamed at the thought. I had acted like a - argh! I had – and he had- It hadn't taken very much from him to bring me to climax, legs and arms thrown around him like I was waiting for him to make love to me. If I hadn't suddenly remembered where I was… we probably would have.

Something about it though… I felt something open up inside me just temporarily. Something good. Something powerful. My illusions were unlike any I had previously cast. Surprise had certainly taken me when my illusions were capable of casting spells that could weaken the Arishok.

Was Carver my trigger? Was that even possible?

My head tried to deny what my heart knew.

Anders interrupted, "He had implied something had happened between the two of you. I'm starting to suspect that he has something to do with your blockages."

I refused to reply and threw myself into sleep, needing rest and distraction from the sudden mess in my life. I was in the soothing arms of the Fade before Fenris had even reached my estate.

When morning came, I woke from deep rest, mostly refreshed. I still felt a little feverish and lacked appetite but at least, my joints stopped aching like I was arthritic and my head was no longer spinning.

Hearing the sounds of morning, various noises of different footsteps, Charade's loud yawn and Gamlen's booming laughter, I went down to join my family for breakfast. None of them seemed the least bit interested in the Qunari.

Charade had latched onto my arm the first moment she saw me and said, "So… what happened in Ferelden?"

"Er…" I said, "Aren't you going to ask about the Qunari?"

Gamlen sneezed out, "Oh we've heard it all from the town criers, oh Champion of Kirkwall. You defeated the Arishok. We know."

I grinned at me before Mother slid fingers into my unbrushed hair, nails lightly scratching my scalp, "You looked very tired yesterday when Fenris brought you home. Are you feeling alright?"

I lied through my teeth, smiling charmingly at her, "Sure… still tired but feel great."

Charade rolled her eyes, "Okay. Great. Ferelden. Now. Before I die!"

I wondered how I should tell them about my past and then decided upon being nonchalant, not up to the task of dramatising narrative, "I found my brother. He's the King of Ferelden and now I'm the Princess, but it's not official, just yet. Spent my time helping out with Ferelden politics, helped Sebastian become Prince of Starkhaven… that kind of thing."

Gamlen and Charade looked up at me with the same wide-eyed expression, jaw slack and eyebrows raised. I shrugged, "It's true."

Charade was the first to recover whilst Mother and I sniggered. She had been delighted, "Oh the Lost Princess! What a title! That and Champion of Kirkwall!" Charade hollered out, stampeding about the dining room with a slice of toast in hand.

It was a bit of a relief to let them know who I was, I didn't have to bother hiding the truth from Gamlen and Charade. After all this time, holding secrets was fast becoming exhausting. She came back to the table, "Oh come on, tell me more. It's like giving me a waffle, and then saying 'no syrup'! Come on, more details. More!"

Family – you have to love them. I spent the better part of the morning explaining the Ferelden political system, the precarious nature of the court as it was currently given Anora's manipulations, the fact that I could become Queen one day. Gamlen's only comment was, "You better still remember us when you become Queen."

Mother had been rather unsurprised at the turnout and mostly listened, idly smiling to herself. She seemed different, I thought, more calm about everything. She almost seemed… girlish. I narrowed my eyes at her, "Enough about me. What about you? You seem different…"

My cousin giggled, "She's got a suitor."

Mother had a suitor? I raised an eyebrow at her, "Really?"

Mother blushed, muttering something under her breath. Charade teased, "I found her the other day, reading all those love letters that have been sent to Auntie Leandra… it made her giggle like a schoolgirl, blushing and stuff… hands covering her lips as she tried to stifle how happy she was."

Gamlen grimaced, muttering under his breath of how inappropriate it was for a widow to remarry or be courted again. I ignored his comments. As long as Mother was happy – that was all that mattered in my mind.

I knew that Father would always be the _one _for Mother but everyone looks for companionship. I could hardly begrudge her that.

Early afternoon, I wrote a letter to Alistair, to let him know of the situation in Kirkwall. He would want to know, I thought.

"Alistair,

I came back to Kirkwall and behold, the Qunari Invasion begins. I had all of about one night's sleep before the Qunari charged and started killing everyone. They invaded homes and well, let's just say there's a lot of blood on the streets.

I don't really want to get into huge details but I managed to kill the Arishok in single combat. Thank Elissa for teaching me how to use daggers properly because that was the only way I managed to crash a chandelier into the Qunari and keep him down. He got me though. I had a huge gaping hole in my arm and my stomach. It's gone now, thanks to Anders and his better (than mine) healing talents.

Saw Carver. Maker, I don't even know how to tell you. I should have thought we were all grown up and civilized but one look at him and… I ended up sniping at him a bit. It wasn't my fault. Alright, maybe it was a little.

BUT he tried to kiss me! Actually he did more than that but I don't think you really want to know. Still… I miss him. Andraste's flaming sword, I'm so conflicted. (Thought I'd try that line for size after hearing you say it. Sounds funny to me. How do you say it?)

There will be a few celebrations and formal affairs for me to attend. I suppose I will be staying here for a little while at least. I'll be home soon though. I don't want to spend too long here. Being the most important person in the city aside from Meredith is politically irritating.

I'm going to tell my friends what I am. Give them the option to come along. I need time to convince Mother though. Charade told me last night that she's seeing someone. I hate to say it like this: but my Mother has a bigger love life than me. Isn't there something wrong with that picture?

By the way, tell Sebastian what's happened and send him my love.

Next time I see you, I won't just be a Princess, I'll be a Champion, too. Better think about how to celebrate my new titles! Just kidding.

Love you brother,

Hales"

It took almost two weeks before I got a reply. During that time, I was stuck. Stuck having a ladies luncheon with the social elite, stuck having dinners at noble households, stuck watching the nobles squabble in court over the statue designs to be put up at the Docks and just stuck in general.

The design of the statue was horrifying. It was supposed to be a statue of a generic knight with its foot upon the Arishok's head. It was crude.

There was also a ceremony in which I was granted some kind of clemency, a right of the privileged for saving the city. I didn't have to be a part of the Circle. For that, I was grateful.

It wasn't until the public celebrations that I felt at wit's end. All the attention, all the unnecessary bowing and scraping, all the insincere flowers and suitors wanting a piece of political power… it seemed all too much. It was good practice, at least, for Ferelden politics but somehow, the people in Ferelden didn't seem quite so… slimy.

I needed to be away to catch my breath, to find my own centre. Hightown was riddled with nobility, Lowtown was full of citizens who were far more sincere but I still felt tired of answering questions about the Qunari, as for Darktown – well, everyone there mostly wanted to kill me.

I left for Sundermount, needing time to be alone. Though the grass wasn't as soft as Ferelden's and the breeze was nowhere as sweet, it was still quiet, peaceful and I found myself breathing easily. I lost myself in the woods, followed the sounds of quibbling water, found myself lured by the sounds of the wildlife, chirping birds twittering above me.

Late afternoon, as I was beginning to my turn back to the city, I heard the sounds of violent clangs of metal and then rambunctious laughter. Curious, I found my feet hurried as I took steps towards a large clearing by the edge of the river, thinking that there was probably some fight that I could get involved in. Wrong.

_Templars._

There were gauntlets, chest-plates and a few swords lying about the grass idly. They'd been bathing in the river, I mused, mischievously tempted to run and hide their things. My eyes fell upon three men, locked in playful sparring, two younger recruits against… _Carver_.

And Carver, I realized with slightly hitched breath, was _wet._ His raven hair was dripping with water, strands of hair standing up in cute tufts. River water slid down his back and chest, evidently mixed with the sweat of exertion, the loose fitting skirts wrapped around his chest and wearing little else. He wasn't even wearing boots.

Rippling muscles flexed as he carefully swung his sword, only very lightly tapping the recruit at the ribs. He berated with a playfully severe tone, "That would have killed. Keep your guard up."

"Yes, Knight-Corporal," the other man jeered, evidently mocking Carver's title.

Knight-Corporal. I hadn't realized that Carver had been doing so well. He already had a title. Carver wasn't a recruit or a Templar-in-training. He was a full Templar, a Knight-Corporal. That was something…

I whispered gently, "Not Hawke's brother anymore, Carver."

What happened at Viscount's Keep was something I couldn't regret. I wanted to regret it, given the way he had treated me, easily throwing me upon a table as though to have his way but I couldn't. When he touched me, there was nothing else in the world aside from Carver and all in the world made perfect sense, simple sense. If I had to be embarrassed over something, it would have been how easy it was for Carver to give me ultimate release. A few touches - that was all it had taken.

I wanted to be angry. Touching me like that could have been considered disrespectful. A man didn't touch a woman he respected like that. But this wasn't a man and a woman. This was about Carver and I and neither of us were normal. Nothing we shared could be compared to the usual. His touch had been fear and desperation. Not disrespect.

I could have handled the situation better but eventually, I would have gone back to Ferelden. He evidently had a life here now. Knight-Corporal Carver.

No one needed to know how much I had enjoyed being with him, even if I had snarled at him afterwards for it. Just as no one needed to know the yearning I felt in my heart watching him smile, laugh and muck around with his colleagues. The sun shone behind him, a glint of triumph reflecting in his eyes. I would always remember this moment. Rippling pectorals, sheen of water and sweat, loose fitting Templar skirt and the sun in his eyes.

Or maybe, he was just the sun in general and I was forever caught in his gravity, ripped apart if I tried to turn away from him, spoilt for any other man who could be a lover to me.

I took two steps backwards, a twig snapped loudly, cracking right through the clearing and I winced. Carver's voice was harsh, "Come out, whoever you are."

I could have run but I was the Champion. They wouldn't harm me. I stepped into the clearing, my voice soft and placating, "My apologies, Ser Templars, I did not mean to interrupt."

The two men Carver had been sparring with dropped their weapons straight away, polite and almost enthusiastic, "Not at all, Champion! We're very pleased to meet you, my Lady."

The other nodded with equal vigour, "Yes, yes, please feel free to join us."

They were young, almost childish in their wide-eyed innocence. Then again, I wasn't so old just yet. I nodded, eyes upon Carver whose perfect lips quirked into a slightly content smile as his eyes took me in. It was a gentle survey, not lustful or possessive, almost comforting. I sat by the edge of the river and undid my shoes, dipping my feet into the cool water.

Another recruit shouted out from behind a tree, unaware of my presence, "Hey Carver, when are we heading back?"

There were hisses of protest from the others, "Shut up, man! The Champion's here!"

Carver was trying to hide his amusement in his orders, "Now. Men, get dressed and begin the patrol back to Kirkwall. I'll catch up shortly after a moment with the Champion."

Carver wanted to talk to me. of course he did, when didn't he?

"Aw, what? How come you get to stay and talk to her? I want to stay and talk to her!"

I chuckled from my position and turned to the men, "All of you are free to speak with me whenever you see me in Hightown, but for now, I do believe you have duties."

It was a very light admonishment that had them all ducking their heads, grinning like little children, pulling on their armour and running on in the direction of the city. I shook my head, laughing at their antics. Oh, to be young and naïve again.

Carver sat beside me, his words equally as gentle in his reprimand, "You're a troublemaker, oh Champion of Kirkwall. The men are bound to ask questions."

I stared at him warily, unsure of whether he would kiss me or kill me next. I made a non-committal noise as he continued, shaking his head, "You've probably got them imagining all sorts of fantasies about you now. You shouldn't speak in that voice… its syrupy enough to go to a man's head."

I touched my water with my fingers and commented, "I wasn't going for syrupy."

"I know," was his only response.

"You better go," I told him, "if you delay, your men will pounce with questions the moment they see you."

"Trying to get rid of me, are you?" he asked, a slight edge in his voice.

"You have duties in Kirkwall, Knight-Corporal," I reminded him as gently as I could, "you can't stay here with me and I need to go home anyway."

"Why are you always trying to run away from me? Do I scare you?" he asked me, slight anger and hurt in his voice.

"You don't scare me at all." Not physically anyway, I amended in my head, "And I don't run away from you."

"Don't you?" he asked cynically, "Every time my back's turned for thirty seconds, you run off. The first year in Kirkwall, the Deep Roads expedition. You even ran off to Ferelden."

"And what about you?" I countered, "You left for the Templars _before _I went to Ferelden. What's more, Ferelden has nothing to do with you."

He was on his feet in a second, voice tired but frustrated, "Maker's fucking – " he broke in a light groan, "Why is it that since Lothering, you and I can't talk anymore? What happened to those nights when you used to tell me everything?"

I stared up into blue eyes, heartbroken and morose before he answered for me, voice hard with acrimony, "Oh that's right, you never told me everything."

Carver turned around, dressed and left me alone. The clearing felt instantly cold without him. Whether I had known it or not, his presence beside me was warming. Without him, everything felt cold.

"What happened, Carver?" I whispered to nobody, "Life happened and love wasn't enough anymore but whether you know it or not, I love you. I love you, Carver."

I wanted to be in Lothering again, where life was simple and I was nothing but an abandoned farm girl, in the arms of the man I loved. He would whisper sweet nothings in my ear and I would be his to hold. To have those moments extending into forever… Wouldn't that be wonderful?

And I would change none of those moments. None of them except perhaps, add a little more. Perhaps, to kiss him deeper, to embrace the forbidden sweetness of our relationship, to _make love_ to him.

I went home feeling broken. The only consolation was my brother's letter that was sitting on my table.

"To the Lost Princess who is also the Champion of Kirkwall who ALSO happens to be my beautiful and lovely sister,

There. For now, that's your celebration until you get here. I've told Sebastian what's happened. He hasn't replied yet because I've just sent it so you'll just have to wait. He wrote to you actually. I've left it in your room but it basically details the fact that he's found some girl that he really likes. Is this what you lot really talk about? So awkward.

I cannot believe you actually – I do not know how to tell you – The whole Qunari thing is a real shocker. That's all I can say. You were so worried about me and Elissa and _you_ were the one who battled Qunari. I'm glad you're alright but I'm thinking about sending a complement of guardsmen to keep you out of trouble. Honestly, how do you manage to get yourself embroiled in such things?

I've actually heard that Meredith has basically installed herself as Viscount. Elissa is really worried. She's just heard that Anora's interested in communicating with Meredith. While you are there, keep an eye out. If Anora is trying… I don't know what's happening yet so I don't want to get your knickers in a twist. Knowing you, you might storm the Gallows and that is not a good idea right now.

I should repeat that for effect – Do not storm the Gallows. Bad idea.

As for Carver, I'm not sure what to tell you. I suppose telling you to wait it out and see what happens is moot point; after all, there are no other options for you. He kisses you. You say nasty things. I'm not sure where it is supposed to go.

And no, I don't want to know what happened between the two of you. Gross.

Then again, I have no experience with relationships aside from Elissa and well, our relationship is simple. No drama. Now that I come to think about it, that's you in one word. Drama. I think that can be your new title, Lost Princess of Ferelden, Champion of Kirkwall, Bringer of Drama and Trouble.

How's that?

As to your Mother's love life… Hales, just no. Awkward. No. That being said, if you want a love life, come home and attend court. That'll give you a love life. That or work things out with Carver.

I love you. Please look after yourself. Elissa also sends her hugs and love. She says that you must keep safe. She wants to see you have children before you die. What is it with women and saying things like that? I want to see your children too, but we men don't say stuff like this.

Alistair"

I couldn't stay long in Kirkwall. When I first left for Ferelden, I had thought to spend most of my time in Kirkwall and only some time in Ferelden. It ended up being the opposite. I wanted, needed, to go back to Ferelden.

I organized a large dinner party, inviting all of my friends along. It was time for my big reveal. Half-way through dinner, a little after entrees, I stood up and announced, "Alright, I have a speech to make. Listen up, you lot."

Everyone was quiet and I said, "I know everyone has been pretty curious as to where I've been and what's been happening and why I've spent so long in Ferelden. So, I thought I'd tell you the entire story now, answer some questions and then offer an opportunity."

I explained to them about my past, who my Father was, that I was related to King Alistair, which made me the Lost Princess. To my utter surprise, none of them were actually fazed by the announcement. Varric made a noise, "Please Hawke. We knew this already."

"What?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I have contacts in Ferelden, too. They saw you with Alistair and I knew. I told everyone else."

I groaned, "Please don't tell me all of Kirkwall knows."

Aveline laughed, "No… the dwarf has _some_ sense of discretion. What took you so long?"

I shrugged, "It was just such a big thing. I needed time to absorb it all." I shrugged again, "Well seeing as you all know, then I guess I should move on. I'm going back to Ferelden. Sooner or later, I have to rule. What I was hoping to offer was whether you'd like to come with me. Sebastian has already reclaimed Starkhaven and I will see him now and again for treaties reasons and he sends letters at least once a week anyway but the rest of you…"

Fenris and Anders looked at each other and Anders said, "We're with you."

Aveline shook her head, "I can't. Kirkwall is home now. I have a responsibility here."

"It'll be different, I suppose," said Isabela, "and it has been a while since I've been to The Pearl. I'll come and see what trouble I can stir up. Not like there's something better to do in Kirkwall."

I held up my hands, "Look, I'm not going to force decisions now. You have time to think about this."

Varric shook his head, "Give us some credit, Hawke. We knew this was coming. Grey Wardens equate to death sentence without the possibility of children. Alistair can't rule forever. We realized you would come around and say all this. So no need for extra time. I'm in. Maybe a new place will give us new trouble."

Merrill piped up, "Me too."

I turned to my family. Gamlen frowned, "This is home. Here in Kirkwall. I-"

I smiled at him, "I understand. It isn't like it is goodbye, Uncle. I will be back to visit. I'll probably be all over the Free Marches and Ferelden. Starkhaven is beautiful. I spent a week there and watched Sebastian's coronation. It was lovely. I plan on revisiting. Kirkwall has some of my friends here and I'll visit. But…" I shrugged, "Ferelden is home. Sooner or later, I have to go back."

Charade seemed tearful as she hugged me, "Please visit often."

"I'm not leaving yet, my lovely," as I returned her hug, "but I promise to visit often."

Mother was the only one that was quiet. She seemed torn and she hesitated, "I'll need time to think about this. I have –"

I nodded, "A suitor here. I know. Well, next time I organize dinner, you should invite him over. If you want to stay in Kirkwall, I'll visit as often as I can and if you want to live in Ferelden again, that option is open too."

She sighed, thought about what she was going to say but then hesitated and then ended up saying nothing at all aside from, "I'll ask him about it."

That night, when everyone had left and I was getting ready for bed, Mother knocked upon my door. I welcomed her in and she sat on the edge of my bed, looking concerned and confused, "Hales," she began, hesitating over her words, "I can't just leave Kirkwall. We left Ferelden to start a life here. I can't… And what about Carver? I can't just leave him here with those Templars."

"He isn't a boy anymore, Mother." I told her sedately. It was true. He was a man in his own right now. If he wanted to be a Templar, it wasn't up to me or Mother to stop him.

She sighed, palms out in supplication, "Don't misunderstand, love. You're my child as much as he is but it was always different. Carver isn't like you. He rushes off to do things, he's impulsive. You're different. There are things that you can take that he just… can't."

I smiled, "Mother, I understand. You worry and I get that but Carver is a man now. Despite what you might think, he isn't a boy anymore. He is stronger than you think. Did you know he's a Knight-Corporal now?"

She nodded, "He was promoted whilst you were in Ferelden. When it happened, I felt so torn apart. I knew in my heart of hearts that you were becoming Princess. My daughter was _Princess_ and my son was Knight-Corporal… and it hadn't even taken all that long. Both of you achieved so much suddenly but I still wondered if the two of you would achieve more together… or maybe, if the two of you would simply be happy. That's beyond the point though, isn't it?"

I tried to steer back to the topic, "I'm not saying this to make you come with me. If you want to live life here, that's fine."

She smiled, sad and reminiscing, her fingers cupping my chin, "My baby is all grown up. I just – I don't think I could make that move again."

I nodded, "I know. You were born here and you want to finish here. I understand. I haven't been here as much as I probably should have and you've managed to find someone, companionship. I wouldn't want to let that go so easily." Then I laughed, remembering Mikhail, "Actually, its best you don't ask me… I've got a bad track record with these things."

Mother tilted her head, "Honestly, did you ever have anyone? I mean, you were always so discreet, I could never tell. Even Malcolm, Maker bless him, he wasn't always sure. He said there was something between you and the de Silva boy but…"

I laughed, "Oh Father…I never could keep anything from him. Mikhail de Silva… yes, he was my lover in Lothering… but…" I sighed, "Carver happened. There was never any competition."

She tutted, "You and Carver. You still haven't told him about being royalty, have you?"

"Nope," I said, popping the word between my lips, "I've only seen him twice since coming back. He pushed me out of harm's way at one point and offered to fight the Arishok for me but I said no. Then he got angry, grabbed me, tried to kiss me amongst other things."

Her eyes bugged out, "What? Really? Oh Carver… so insensitive. What did you do?"

I shrugged, "I Mind Pulsed him. Sent him crashing against the shelves. The second time I saw him was by the river. He was sparring with his men and I accidentally walked in on them. We talked again but as per usual, our conversation didn't end well. Should have struck him with lightening now that I come to think of it," I quipped lightly.

Mother had laughed and I smiled. She did seem happier than she had been in quite a while. When she saw me watching her she told me, "I miss your Father and Quentin will never be Malcolm but… maybe, I just might get remarried."

I felt so envious, "Now if only I could be so lucky… I wonder when I'll find someone."

She looked away, strode to the window and revealed, "Your Father always believed that Carver was the one. I never used to believe him but after all these years, I think he might be right. Carver has a way of unlocking your heart, something no one else can do. You need to be patient. I know he's brash and –"

I complained, "Being brash and rude doesn't bother me. I don't care if he swears. There's just… always something in the way!"

"Like what?" she asked me curiously.

I shrugged, "I don't know. Everything. He gets sulky when he feels inferior, like the way he's constantly got something to prove. Then when he doesn't get his way, he grabs you and kisses you until the world burns down and he actually has the ability to _walk away_!" I whined, "I hate that. He's never affected by me. Never! Not even at Viscount's Keep, he had his hands all over me and-" I broke off, not wanting to reveal anymore, "The point is he affects me far more than I affect him and I don't feel like being a plaything. I'm not the stupid Blooming Rose!" I ranted about all the inconsequential things. The big part was the fact that he and I needed to talk and I didn't know how to pluck up the courage to say all the things that needed to be resolved. I resolutely ignored that.

She soothed her fingers over my hair, trying to calm me down, "But you keep secrets. A lot of secrets that don't help the situation. With you, it's one secret after another. I know he's immature sometimes but he loves you deep down. You shouldn't doubt that."

I turned my head away from the truth, preferring to delve in denial because it made it easier to swallow, "Not enough. Never enough. I guess it doesn't matter anyway," I told her, "I'm to be in Ferelden and my brother needs me to rule someday. It's too late for Carver and me." Wistfully I dreamed, "Maybe if the Blight never happened…"

In the end, Mother promised to bring Quentin over for dinner one night and I resigned myself to the fact that I would never be utterly complete anywhere in the world. If I was in Kirkwall, I was without my brother. If I was in Ferelden, I was without Mother and Carver. That was the way it went and I accepted that.

Then Carta thugs attacked my family.

It was late in the night, all was quiet, and I was dreaming in the Fade, walking alongside spirits and other such creatures. A shrill scream pierced right through and as I struggled towards wakefulness, I looked around the blurry edges of the Fade, saying out loud, "Huh… someone's screaming."

Another piercing scream jolted me completely and I found myself sitting up in bed, hands automatically reaching for my staff, running towards what I knew was Charade's bedroom and screams.

As I ran through the corridor, Charade screamed again, loud enough to wake the dead. Her room was a disaster. Broken windows, two dwarves with axes tore towards her as she defended with her daggers. I threw fireballs at them, hot waves of flames licking and burning over their skin. Other screams of pain filled the air and I wondered still sleepily why people had to scream so loudly. It was totally unnecessary.

Mother and Gamlen stood outside, staring at the two of us, each of them asking hurried questions of what was going on.

"What's going on?"

"What the hell just happened?"

Charade and I looked at each other before she replied, "I don't know," she said a little shaken up, "One minute, I was sleeping. Next, I heard my windows crashing open and two dwarves were on me. I thought… I thought they were going to rape me…"

I went to her, arms around her shoulders to comfort, "It is over now and you're safe. Come to my room and let's get some sleep. We'll work this out tomorrow morning."

There was trouble still brewing. But what? I was Champion now, who would dare to attack my home so openly? I went to the bodies, inspecting their possessions. Their tattoos were evidently from the Carta.

Carta dwarves… I had to speak to Varric the following morning.

However, it was a sign of my delayed leaving and Alistair would need to know. I tucked Charade into bed and penned a note down so Bodahn could send it the following morning.

"Alistair,

Firstly, Mother won't be returning to Ferelden but some of my friends will be. They know who I am now but they are discreet. You'll meet them soon, I'm sure.

Secondly, I know I was probably due home soon but my family just got attacked by what seems to be Carta dwarves. They broke Charade's window and attacked her outright. Her scream woke me up but there are still problems here that I need to look into.

I haven't seen Anora but if she's been communicating with Meredith, this isn't a good sign. Watch your back, brother. I don't know how long this will take. Hopefully, this mess with the Carta dwarves will blow over and I can come home soon.

Love,

Hales"

* * *

><p>AN: To my readers, this chapter is slightly shorter than the last few but I'll make up for it in the next whopping chapter! Please R&R!

A shout to Mistress Vo - thanks for getting the editing done so quickly!

Love, Ann


	13. Secret Legacy

**Chapter 13 – Secret Legacy**

_Carver_

I found myself outside Hawke Estate, _her_ estate.

It was the first time I had even set foot into the mansion. I found myself staring at the main door, trying to work out why I was even here.

The note in my hand told me it was business. After all, Carta dwarves had attacked me in the Gallows and the note spoke of killing both son_ and_ daughter. They were after her, too.

My heart told me it was because I was afraid for her. I had no reason to be. Hales was capable, she fought off the Arishok in single combat. Charade was skilled with a bow and arrow. Sandal had his enchantments and Bodahn was hardly fragile. Everyone would be safe.

I could just go to Varric and ask him about the Carta dwarves, fix the issues and go back to the Gallows.

But I didn't. Instead, I was standing outside her house like a guard-dog when all I wanted was to be in her shelter. Her house was beautiful. It was actually a mansion yet when I walked in, I felt like it was a castle in itself, regal with a warm fire burning from every hearth.

They'd had been in the middle of breakfast when I had interrupted. Bodahn had eagerly invited me in, "Come in, Ser Carver. Your family is having breakfast! Would you like to eat something?"

I smiled at the man and strode into the dining room, hearing lilts of laughter and chatter in the air. Charade was cackling, "Oh Maker, Hales! Did you _actually _walk in on the two of them kissing? What was it like?"

Hales had smiled, voice bubbling with amusement, "Why are you asking me that? It's not like I took part. Goodness Charade, you really need to get out more often if you're asking questions like that."

Her eyes glinted with affection for Charade and Maker, how I wanted to have a place by the warmth and fire of her love.

I cleared my throat at the door and Mother had stood up, crying out happily, "Carver! You're here! Come, have some breakfast." I stared at the food on the table. Nothing in the Gallows had smelt this great. I couldn't help my stomach. The food just looked too good. I sat opposite to Hales and she stared away awkwardly, adjusting her irritatingly flirty, white dress of hers that bared her arms. She muttered a soft greeting.

Gamlen had clapped me on the shoulder, "So my boy, how is life treating you?"

I shrugged, my entire armour clanking about, "I was doing alright, I suppose, until I got attacked last night in the Gallows."

The entire room became sombre as everyone exchanged looks with everyone else. Hales addressed me with a prim voice, "Last night you say? Any chance they were Carta dwarves?"

I undid my gauntlets, put them to the side and reached for waffles, drenched in far too much syrup. I nodded, "Dwarves. Meredith gave me leave to fix the problem. I thought I'd come over and see if anything happened to you because I found a note," I handed her a note, "that refers to killing all those with the blood of Hawke."

She flipped the note open and read out loud, "Kill all those with the blood of Hawke. The daughter is in her estate. The son at the Gallows. Kill them both. Leave no survivors." As she flicked the note back onto the table with disdain, her voice was worried, "They came for us last night."

Charade visibly shivered, "Came through my window. We managed to kill them."

Hales scoffed, evidently trying to cheer Charade, "Managed to kill them? I'm surprised that they didn't die from hearing the way you screamed. I thought you were going to wake the dead from their graves. Ear piercing."

Our cousin bickered, "Good thing, too or you would still have been sound asleep, oh great Champion of Kirkwall!" Our older cousin wasn't really much of an older cousin, I thought. What was it that she did on a daily basis? I was busy with Templar duties, Hales was the Champion… Charade was what, a random noble bum?

I bit into the waffle, it was rich, buttery and sweet, just the way Hales used to eat everything. She might not have cooked the meal but she had surely helped in serving it. It was soaked through with syrup. I watched as she chewed on her own food, clearly in thought, "I was thinking of visiting Varric this morning. He would know, right?"

I grinned to myself, "He's a dwarf who has other dwarf contacts. If that's what you mean, then sure. We'll go after breakfast."

She locked eyes with me, tilting her head to the side, her hair brushing over her arms. I felt my body clench up, felt the blood rush downwards and cursed her inwardly. I was hard, eager and I dreamed of sheathing myself inside her, feeling her moist warmth surround me. Years of wanting her and the need still hadn't waned.

It had only gotten worse since that day at Viscount's Keep.

I watched her with an intense gaze, eyes roaming down her collarbones and towards the curves of her breasts. I wanted to touch her, test the silken weight of her breasts, find purchase in the rough tips of her nipples between my teeth.

Damn it all to the Void. Why was it that every time I saw her, it had to be for business reasons? I couldn't convince her like this. I needed an opportunity, something that had _nothing_ to do with business. That day at the clearing had been so short. I should have tried something but I hadn't knowing that the recruits weren't far off.

Hales wasn't entirely unaffected though, her hands shook visibly as she lifted the fork to her lips. She was slightly out of breath, her eyes flitting away from mine, her mind surely going to places of erotic pleasure. She blushed, caught in the memories of Viscount's Keep and I smirked at her, smug and confident. The little coward refused to look at me.

I kept the smirk on my face though inside, I felt rejected. _Look at me, Hales. Look at me._

Then I noticed the bracelet adorning her right upper arm. It was like a simple coil, with red stones that matched her ring. I gestured to her jewellery and she said simply, "The bracelet was a gift for my twenty-first birthday."

Charade giggled, "She hasn't told us who gave it to her though. Probably her Ferelden lover. I mean, look at all those rubies! And that matching ring…"

Mother rolled her eyes, "Oh stop teasing her. That ring was with Hales when Malcolm found her."

"And," Hales added with a soft smile and a sparkle of affection in her eyes, "the bracelet was from someone who has a _wife_. Not a lover."

Gamlen defended his daughter's thoughts, "You could be his mistress, couldn't you?"

"Ew!" she complained, "I'd rather be alone my whole life than be someone's mistress! What's wrong with you?" He had chuckled like a perverted old man.

It begged a few questions though. Who was she in her past life that allowed her to have such an expensive ring? And who did she know now who could afford such an expensive bracelet? Someone important. Someone with lots of money and a man, too. Who was he, I thought jealously, that could make her eyes sparkle with love and trust?

My mind went back to that feeling I had standing outside her door. Why didn't Hales ever look at me like that anymore? She used to back in Lothering. Was it because of Ferelden?

I couldn't help the image of her as a beautiful princess, a woman worth having and holding, only to watch her lower the gate against me and shut me out because I was only a knight, a Templar, and not a king.

We went to the Hanged Man and found Varric, who had frowned at the incidences we had told him. He said, "The Carta thugs are businessmen, not stupid. Why would they attack you?" We showed him the note and after he contacted a few sources, he told us, "Get packing. We're going to the Vimmark Mountains. Bring a few other people."

Hales looked to me, her eyes tired, "Great. Another trip to the Deep Roads. I'll get Fenris and Anders. You – pack or something." She left and her skirt swished at her knees, accentuating her hips in a very appealing way. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to keep wearing it or if I wanted to see her in armour. Considering her choices in armour, I wasn't sure which one was worse.

Although, I consoled myself, maybe I just needed more options. I wanted her in the armour. I wanted her in the dress. I wanted her out of them, too. I wanted _her._ Full stop. Maybe it really didn't matter what she was wearing at all.

Before sunset, everyone was ready at Varric's. Hales changed into armour, similar to the ones she had worn at Viscount's Keep and I felt myself swallow thickly to keep the arousal at bay. Then we trekked, over mountain ranges, harsh sandy areas where the sun beat hard against our flesh. When we reached a strangely dilapidated spot full of broken wagons, Varric stopped and pointed towards the west, "Here it is."

If there was to be some kind dwarven hideout, I didn't see it. I commented, "It doesn't look all too dwarven."

"These are Carta dwarves. They are more criminals and smugglers than anything else. They aren't usually stupid though," Varric shrugged, "This is all so strange. I don't see why they'd attack you."

I shook my head, "I still can't believe they snuck into the Gallows in order to get at me."

Hales snorted, "Bet Meredith wasn't too happy about that."

Varric asked with reluctance, "You have a plan then? I found their hideout but my sources couldn't tell me what to expect."

"You seem worried," she commented, "It's just the Carta, isn't it?"

He stepped out towards the cliffs, "According to the maps, this place doesn't exist. There shouldn't be a here. It's an invisible spot. This is very strange. Bianca is suspicious and she's twitchy to start with. Keep your guard up, Hawke."

"Does it matter?" I asked, "We just need them to stop trying to kill us."

"A fine point. So, what's the plan?"

Hales shrugged, "I don't have one. I suppose 'kill anything that tries to kill me' is out?" Anders snorted in amusement and Fenris managed a small smile.

"Let's go. It isn't often a Templar gets leave. Let's not mess things up," I said. Fenris, Anders, Hales and I moved forward without Varric.

He shouted to our retreating backs, "If we need me, I'll be keeping watch. Try not to get yourselves killed."

Running around in a desert-like mountain turned out to be a rather arduous thing to have to go through especially since Varric hadn't been certain where we were actually going. We searched the area, exploring little caves and tiny crevices. The afternoon sun was unforgiving and Hales complained half-way through, "I have sand in places I didn't know existed."

Anders had teased, "I think living in Denerim the last few months has really spoilt you."

Her voice was wistful, "Ferelden is a lot nicer than Kirkwall or… whatever this place is."

I said nothing, wanting to observe and watch, hoping to catch relevant details about her trip but nothing more was shared.

Eventually, we bumped into dwarves. What they had to say was all rather disturbing. He had been waiting for us, this fellow with a proper dwarven beard that covered three quarters of his face. His eyes were spooky, faraway and distant.

"You!" He had shouted, pointing at Hales, "The brother and sister both! You're here together! You've come!"

I murmured to Hales, "Is he referring to you and me?"

She looked at me with derision in her eyes, "Any other brother and sister you see here?" That comment stung. As far as I was concerned, I didn't see any brother and sister.

"Everyone!" the dwarf cried, rallying many others, "It's the children of Malcolm Hawke! They've come to us!" His eyes… they were strange. Glazed and white. The way old people looked when they had that thing… cataracts? Looking at them made a strange chill come over me. The others seemed to have similar eyes too. I filed the thought away.

"What does my _Father_ have to do with this?" Hales cried out.

"It began with him and ends with you! Blood for blood, that's what we were told!"

"Did Father cross the Carta somehow?" I asked rhetorically for no one had the answers.

There was desperation in the dwarves eyes, a strange moon-shade glint in them, "You've come to us now and that's the only thing that matters." He continued, "We must have the blood. You don't understand."

Anders hissed, "Blood magic."

"I kind of figured that out," I told him ungratefully. Hales remained silent as the dwarf cried out, "We will take it. Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!"

They attacked, dwarves seemed to just come out of nowhere. Most of them were relatively easy to dispatch. There was something in their movements that seemed uncoordinated, like they were confused or out of balance. Spells were fired left, right and centre and I heard swords slashing this way and that. I heard the swishes of movement, battle-cries roaring out, stubby feet charging and stomping. We entered a strange arena like area and a bronto awaited us, his horns gleaming in the sun, evidently sharp tempered and eager to attack. The poor thing didn't last very long.

I said to Hales, "Did you hear that? They're after us… for our blood! Why?"

She shook her head, her eyes worried. She joked, "Crazy people like blood. A lot."

Anders commented, "Deranged dwarves. We can check that off the list. Did you see the way they stumbled towards us? Dwarves are capable fighters, especially the Carta ones. All this doesn't add up."

"I want to know who this Corypheus is and how he's related to Father," said Hales sensibly. As we went along the platforms, looting bodies and crates, she muttered out, "And really? More blood? Why can't it be… I don't know, spit? Or maybe a lock of hair?"

Fenris questioned, "I'm questioning your sanity, Valentha. Did you actually want to encounter a spit mage?"

She shot me a glance, "Just for variety, sure. It'd be a lot better than all this blood. Don't people get tired of all this blood nonsense?"

I spun out romantic nonsense, "Of course not. Generally, the shedding of blood leads to an ultimate prize. Don't the stories talk about the lives of thousands of men being lost in war just for the love of a woman? Isn't that a prize worth fighting for?"

It was just an idea to make her think and it had the effect I wanted. She looked at me, her heart in her eyes for a moment as she stumbled and tripped. I caught her easily, steadying her with warm hands and murmured, "Easy does it. Getting sand scrapes along your skin isn't fun."

"Uh huh…" she said absent-mindedly, eyes flicking from my eyes to my mouth.

Anders interrupted us, "Yeah, the love of a woman is worth fighting for but in this case, they are fighting for _more_ blood. That's irritating."

Hales stiffened and backed away from me. I wanted to deck him in the face for breaking our moment.

We left the arena and travelled through some tight passages. This place was old. The beams and structures were breaking down, the wood brittle from all the years of endless sunshine beating down. Every few yards, there was an arch of sorts with two red flags adorning each side. It was a simple, tear shaped flag with a small yellow emblem that definitely looked dwarven. It looked like a little box with some triangles popping out. It was ugly and not very special.

Then came the real thing over the horizon – a fortress. It was another old building, evidently strong and built meant to last. It was ominous though. Built over Vimmark Chasm, there was something about the building that was hollow and tainted. I could sense magic all over with my Templar skills and not the good kind either.

There were dwarves in every single corner. The battle seemed endless. Every time we pushed forward a few yards, another group of crazed dwarves awaited. The routine and pattern grew weary. Eventually, Hales just yelled out, "Anders and I will freeze. You and Fenris kill." It was the winning strategy. The ice spells kept them like statues for a few moments, long enough for Fenris and I could behead, maim, dismember or kill as we pleased.

When we reached a small and private alcove, all of us too tired to continue, Hales spoke to Anders, "Remember in the Deep Roads, where it felt really… strange? And tainted?"

"Of course, I remember. We got locked down there for an entire week."

"I've got that feeling again," she murmured fearfully, "I don't like this." She watched the dark blue-black horizon and suggested, "Let's make camp here. We'll continue in the morning."

The bedrolls were rolled out, a small fire going. I removed my armour in favour of more comfortable clothes and Fenris constantly exchanged looks with Anders, worried about the situation. I was surprised when Anders kissed the elf on the forehead, wrapping his arm around him in a lover-like embrace. I looked away quickly and awkwardly, leaving them to find Hales. I found her leaning against a pillar, staring out at the darkened sky.

"I don't like this," she said, knowing of my approach, "I don't like how Father's involved. I can sense something bad and I'm not just talking about blood magic."

Seeing her like that, I felt a rush of simple love for her. We had something important to do. She needed support, not antagonism. I reminded her, "You aren't doing yourself any favours by over-thinking. We'll worry about this tomorrow."

She carded her fingers through her hair in aggravation, "What am I going to do before then? What if Father… What if Father died because of-"

I stopped her thoughts, holding her hands in with my own, pulling her fingers from her curls of hair. Her breath hitched as I said to her as gently as I could, "Father died safely, remember? He was happy. I don't know how he's involved but you need to stop imagining the solution."

She closed her eyes and nodded. Things were simple again for a moment, like in the days when the things I said could get through to her. I carded fingers into her hair and touched her waist gently. "Come on," I pulled her hand, "Get some rest. You'll feel better with some sleep under your belt, trust me."

As Hales lay down on the bedroll next to mine, she huffed, twisted and turned, still thinking things over in her mind. Anders offered, "Want me to cast a sleep spell on you?"

"No," she answered, "I'm not tired."

"That's the point, Hales. You're not tired so a sleep spell will make you sleep," he tried to persuade.

"I don't want it."

I saw Fenris subtly nudge his ribs and after a brief eyeballing battle between the two of them, Anders relented and said, "Well, apparently you're getting it anyway."

Hales dropped out like a candle-light.

In the morning, she was grouchy and irritable, snapping at everyone as the spell hadn't completely worn off yet. She felt a little better when Anders cast some kind of rejuvenation spell but she was still upset at having to sleep on demand, without any control over her body whatsoever.

We found the Carta hideout. It took most of the morning but after a lot of travelling, a lot of searching and a lot of vaguely muttered curses, we found it. It was all rather anti-climatic. It was just a small wooden door on the side of the fortress walls that lead to a labyrinthine structure within. As expected, inside were more dwarves. I felt like I was committing genocide really, the amount of dwarves we were killing just to get to the bottom of whatever Father had gotten into was insane. A part of me wasn't sure I really wanted to know what had gone down between Father and the Carta.

We found some dwarf leader at some point though honestly, how I knew he was a leader I wasn't even sure. All of them were starting to look exactly the same. He might as well have been the last guy I had beheaded. He was petting a bronto when he came up to us, addressing Hales, "Hawke. I knew you were trouble." He looked at me, "And look, you brought the whole family. How generous. I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood. One way or the other…"

There was one thing I kept noticing though. Their eyes… that strange, foggy, almost moon-light colour that their pupils took on, it was the same for every dwarf we killed. There was something weird here. "What does this have to do with my father?" Hales asked, one hand on her hip, the other jutted out.

"The Master wants you. I don't ask questions," he replied.

"So it's Corypheus that's after me?"

"What Corypheus wants, Corypheus gets. From us, or from someone." That wasn't answering the question much and I could tell from Hales' next response that she was starting to become extremely furious.

"Corypheus wants some blood? Sure! Let me just open a vein… want a kidney, hmm?" Hales glared tightly, her fists clenching so hard that her palms were sure to bleed.

"Corypheus, we have done as you command!" He cried out to the entire building, many dwarves stumbling towards us, "Your sacrifice is here. You will see the surface once more!"

Hales hissed to Fenris, "Want to try a little something something?"

The dwarves were running to us and Fenris hissed back, "Whatever you plan, do it quickly."

As she began to shoot spells from her staff, she explained, "Look at their eyes. Something is affecting them. I'm going to try linking them all together with my powers. You stick your hand in that stupid dwarf's chest. I'm sick to death of going through and killing them the old fashioned way."

As she spoke, mana-blue was glowing from Hales. Her fingers had little streams of blue coming out from the tips, her hair flowed about her, her entire body was covered with small tingles of blue light and her eyes… they were wholly blue. No whites, no chocolate brown irises, no pupil… she looked a little like Anders when Justice came out to play. A line of blue and purple went from her to the leader and through him, countless more lines linked him and the other dwarves.

Seeing this, Fenris sneered, "Very well," before storming towards the dwarf, shoving his hand clean through his chest. It was like watching a natural disaster. You couldn't help yourself, you just had to keep watching no matter how horrifying the scene.

All around me, the other dwarves fell to their knees. They choked, coughed, hands grappling at their chests, fingers forced down their throats as though to remove something before screaming in pain. Weapons dropped, hands began to scratch at themselves, trying to dislodge whatever was within them. Chests were ripped apart, some had physically turned to daggers, thrusting the blade inside of them to be free of what I imagined, felt like Fenris' fist inside them all.

I heard some of them vomit before I finally turned away. Hearing them gag was just too much and eventually, silence fell as all of them died.

I wasn't sure if I was sickened, amazed or just plain relieved it was over. "Huh," was all Anders had to say until Hales wavered on the spot, face green as she collapsed on the ground on her hands and knees.

We all cried out her name and rushed to her. She was pale and clammy, shivering a little from the aftershocks. She tried to laugh at our worried expressions and said, "Um… maybe next time we should go for the old fashioned way. I don't think I'm up to another one of those."

Anders told her, "You're not supposed to be doing stuff like this, Hales. Next time, make it smaller scale. _Much smaller scale_," he emphasized.

I snarled, "Next time? There will be no next time! Beheading a few people doesn't take _that_ long!"

Through her uncontrollable shaking though, she was barely listening, fingers pointing towards a dead body that seemed to lying on top of something that was glowing. I smacked her hand lightly, "Stop it. It won't grow legs and run off. Just give yourself a minute."

Anders suggested, "Hold her. I think it'll help."

As Hales protested, I slid my body underneath hers, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my lips at her hairline. Her body stopped its quivers instantly. It was almost miraculous. I stared down at her and then up at Anders, whose eyes gleamed with triumph. Did affection make her heal easier?

Hales eventually had enough strength to pull herself from my body and got up without another word. Her eyes refused to meet mine and she focused upon the dead body. Fenris kicked the body over, revealing a magical staff. It looked more like an ornament, with three legs at the bottom and a circular shape in the middle. When she lifted it, she tried to cast a spell but it did nothing. She shrugged, "This doesn't work… but it was glowing a moment ago."

I gestured for it and when it landed in my palm, there was an explosion of power within me, a ball of energy growing inside. I snarled out, "What… what is this?" I could feel something clicking inside me and the knowledge was instantaneous. It would lead me to Corypheus. I could sense it, feel it like music beckoning me towards someone… or something.

"This will take me to Corypheus," I told her, "It was a part of an enchantment I think…", when I stared at my palm, there was a small cut there that hadn't been there before. I frowned, "Blood magic?"

She shrugged, "I don't know but it makes sense. I'm not Father's blood daughter. Maybe it needed your blood." She helped me lodge it against my back, keeping it in place. When we saw shadows running away to another direction, Hales made a gesture with her head and we chased after them, following as closely as we could.

When we passed a small archway going downstairs, an amber-orange whirl appeared. Anders touched it, pressed his hand against something was felt solid, "There's magic in this. It's some… Justice says it is some kind of _seal_."

"Shit!" I cursed, "We're stuck."

Fenris pointed out, "There are other doorways. There must be more than one way out of here."

I was too preoccupied to answer. The corridor was like a balcony overlooking an infinite abyss. The fortress was huge, endless and a tower was built within it. I could see the tower not so far away and I could tell that the stone architecture was ancient. Not only that but I could make out something that looked like Warden flags, navy blue with griffons emboldened in silver.

"Look at this place," I told them, "It's massive! The tower goes all the way down," I pointed into the darkness, "it probably leads to the Void."

Hales was indifferent, her eyes scanning over the place with something akin to disgust, "This place gives me the creeps. I prefer the Ferelden sunlight to this."

Anders threw an arm around her shoulder, placating in distraction, "The sooner we're out of here, the sooner you can go back to Ferelden."

That took me out of my awe and I narrowed my eyes at her, "You're going back to Ferelden? Why?"

Hales sighed, glaring at Anders, "Later, Carver. Not now." Secrets. Never-ending secrets.

There were two doors. One stone, one wood. Hales motioned towards the wooden door and Fenris kicked it open. Magic was everywhere. I could smell the taint of blood in the air. It was twisted. A booming, low voice echoed through the walls, "…be bound here for eternity. Hunger stilled. Rage smothered. Desire dampened. Pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be."

As we neared closer, we found another amber-orange whirl, with three blood-red orbs. The centre orb was faded, the ones on the side were glowing. There were matching ones on the walls, red orbs built into the Warden emblems and crests on the walls. It was guarding something but I couldn't see through it.

Hales said, "Those orbs in the Warden crests, is it a button?" She motioned to the seal and put her hand against the orbs, "That doesn't do anything."

I went to the crest, hesitantly placing my hand against the orb. It darkened and Hales gasped, "Look at the seal!" The orbs were changing, two faded, one glowing. I went to the opposite wall and did the same thing, the seal changed again. The middle one glowing, the others faded. We stood closer to the seal and she said with anticipation in her voice, "Go on. Touch it."

I nearly laughed, nerves building inside me as I grazed my hand against the final glowing red orb. Concentric circles grew, separating like ripples until the seal dissipated. Everyone's look of excitement dropped like lightening had struck us. What lay within was horrifying real. A demon of sloth, a very old and very powerful demon of sloth. We all cursed simultaneously and I shouted, "Cast lightening spells! Sloth demons hate those!"

Lightening filled the hall, playing purple and white against my armour. I could feel small tingles and shocks now and again as I walked into the mages' line of fire but it didn't really hurt. I sliced my sword sideways but the demon shrank back just in time for the fatal blow to be but a nick.

It returned swiftly, claws sliding across my face, leaving parallel cuts on my cheek and jaw. Furious that I had been injured, I swung my sword harder, hacking a chunk of demon flesh off its body. It swept forward towards me and I dodged in time to strike again, a deep cut along its spine just as Fenris thrust his sword downwards, pinning the body to the ground leaving it as a dusty husk.

The low voice rumbled, "I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place but I will have no one say that any magic of mine released one into the world."

"Who was that?" I asked, instantly suspicious as my mind slowly accepted what my heart knew already, "I… feel like I know that voice." It sounded like Father.

"It's Father's voice, Carver," she whispered, her eyes widened and her mouth slack in shock.

When I felt blood slide down my neck, I hissed at my wound and Hales realizing my injury, told the others, "Go scout. I'll tend to Carver."

As I sat down against the wall, she kneeled beside me, her fingertips cool and soothing against my cheek, healing magic glowing from her hand. I told her roughly, "Leave it, I'm fine," trying to bat her hands away.

"Don't be so stubborn, Carver, the rumours that women like scars are a lie. Let's not allow a sloth demon to mar your handsome face," she said matter-of-factly, her breath warm and comforting against my skin. My fists clenched, wanting to take her into my arms but instead, I quipped, "Don't I get a kiss? That'll heal me in no time."

Her smile was hesitating, eyes wary and remembering of the last time we had kissed but I grinned at her, boyish and unrepentant and her smile gave way to indulgent and genuine laughter. It was the first time I had heard her laugh like that in a very long time. The back of her hand stroked over healed skin then her lips found my stubbled cheek. As her lips lifted, I turned my head and chased her lips with my own, allowing them to brush only for a second.

It was like a drop of water to someone who had gone without too long. I had kissed her at Viscount's Keep but this was water of a different kind, gentle and sweet, sensual and full of longing. Hales murmured my name in surprise and I smiled, silencing her with another brush of lips. She was growing receptive and accepting of my kisses. I heard a soft purr at the back of her throat as she rested her forehead against mine as she whispered husky against me, "It's been a while since you've kissed me like that."

"Then let me do it again," I said against her, kissing her deeply, though still closed-mouth, my arms winding around her waist, her soft arms curling about my neck. I brushed curls from her cheek, caressing and cradling her face. She was relaxed against me, pliant and yielding.

Hales was different today, I mused as I drew back to stare into her eyes. She still had secrets but she was different, more accepting, less restraining against her wants. Maybe something had happened in Ferelden. Something good. I leaned in to kiss her again and she did not refuse me, allowing me to lead the kiss however I wished.

Then the clanking of metal armour sounded. She stiffened, I cursed inwardly and she sprang away, on her feet in a second. We weren't fooling anyone though. It wasn't possible for the others not to have known what had happened. Judging by her crimson face, it wasn't like there was much of an alternative. Wisely, they said nothing.

My heart squeezed watching her inability to let go. I felt hurt _for her_. She was hurting herself and she still didn't see it.

The brief return of hope for more was more painful than I had originally anticipated yet it reminded me what it had been like for an endlessly wanted dream to come true, even if it was just for a second.

Kissing her at Viscount's Keep was pure passion and lust. These kisses were given from love and hope seeded deep within me. I had felt alive, truly alive.

Fully alive.

For a long time, I had prayed she would stop dancing in my mind. For a long time, I had prayed that I would stop caring.

It would never be good enough anymore.

Her kiss had given me enough hope for me to believe that all things were possible, even the love of a woman who didn't believe in being loved.

And what happened next only made that hope grow.

We found a crazy Grey Warden who told us that the only way to leave the tower would be to go in deeper. That didn't even make sense to me but the others seemed to follow his advice anyway. He did manage to answer one question though, if one deems a crazy man's answer as an accurate one, the staff was attuned to Father's blood and it was some kind of key that unlocked the seals found in this place. He wanted us to release the seals. We knew from experience though that the seals were there for good reason, to trap demons. What would we be facing?

We made it into the main tower, inside a large domed room where concentric circles lay in stone on the floor, empowered by violet streaming mana and amber-orange glows. I could sense how the stave was communing with the seal, could feel the vibration against my back and I said, "We have to put the staff to the seal."

Hales argued, "We can't do this blind. Anything could come out of that."

Anders went to her, "Merge with me and create some illusions. Nothing big mind you, just enough to distract whatever comes out of there."

That wasn't enough information anymore and pissed off that I had no idea what was going on, I interrupted, "Alright, that's enough," I told them, throwing the staff to the floor, "What exactly are you? Anders said you were a sorceress but what exactly are you?" I was sick and tired of not knowing what was going on. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.

She answered, "I…" she hesitated, "I'm a sorceress. I can cast spells that other mages can't. I can do things, horrific but powerful things, that's all I know really." I scoffed at her answer but she sighed, "Carver… That really is all I know. I've spent almost two years studying extra magic but I don't know what I really am or what I represent. I'm supposed to be all-powerful but… I still feel weak pretty easily."

"That is an understatement. She goes into shakes the moment she casts powerful spells," sneered Fenris, glaring at Hales for hiding the truth.

She didn't really notice and said, "The Qunari fight… I got lucky," she looked at her hands, buried her face in them, "If I didn't have daggers… "

Fenris supplied, "You would have died. As it is, we still cannot be certain why you managed to cast such powerful illusions considering you've failed to do so before and after that battle."

She could have died. I knew that but I still didn't want to swallow that truth. We remained quiet for a little while and she turned back to the seal. I saw her unlike the others, how she truly was, tired and sick to death of death itself.

Anders then took over, "I've read a lot of tomes about sorcery. Most need someone else to practice with. She's had me so far but I'm still _just_ a mage. Still, every sorceress or sorcerer, the powerful ones at least, they have triggers. It's like phases. A trigger unlocks a little potential. Another trigger, unlock some more. Another trigger, unlock some more until one day, all of it comes out. It might take forever to find all those triggers though."

"What could these triggers be?" I inquired.

He shrugged, "It could be anything. I imagine that they are usually emotionally linked thought and considering that day, you and Hales-" She shot him a silencing glare, causing him to tighten his lips. I frowned – more secrets.

Then it made sense. Something about my touch triggered her. Something about our heated kisses that day had helped her and suddenly, despite the surroundings and frustration, I felt a strange link to Father. Like he was here. Like his spirit was surrounding me. I remembered back to the days when Father used to teach Bethany magic, telling her to focus only on his voice and let everything else flow.

I took the staff from the floor and went behind her, one arm around her waist. She leaned into me like it was the most natural thing in the world and I murmured, "Let's try something." She needed me, like she always had. I wasn't sure what possessed me but I knew that I could help. I was always the one she needed, like Father believed.

"Like?" she asked curiously, tensing in my arms when she realized that we had an audience.

"Remember what Father used to tell Bethany, Hales? That in order to use magic, one must let go. So, let go. Focus only on my voice." I told her, speaking into her ear. For a moment there, it was like I could almost feel Father with me, a hand on my shoulder, whispering ideas into my mind.

"Let go? Of what?" she asked, so similar to the way Bethany had once sounded. There was support, something good and warm sinking into my stomach. The next words out of my mouth seemed instinctive, "Whatever is scaring you, whatever you fear. You won't lose anything by letting go."

Her fingers found mine, her fingertips dragging against my skin. I wasn't sure what to tell her to let go of but the blush across her cheeks egged me on, "Feel your mana," I told her, "raise it up to the surface of your skin. Let it sit there, brewing inside you, growing…"

She did so, I could taste her magic in the air, her sweetness, her goodness inherent in her magic. My heart pounded, pushing me on. This was purely gut instinct and I just hoped that whatever it was, it would work, "Close your eyes… breathe deeply." Her eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks and her breath was slow, flowing deeply into her lungs. I could feel her mana expanding, I could almost see into her body with my Templar senses, how her energies were balling like snow, a tightly restricted energy that was just about to explode, "Get ready, Hales."

With the staff in hand, I directed it towards the seal, motioning with my head for the others to get ready. I heard her make a noncommittal noise, a soft hum like she wasn't sure what to say. The seal broke with a metallic bang, a huge roar echoing in the room. A demon appeared, larger than all of us put together, its horns gleaming red and its spikes as glossy as a raven's wing. Powerful fires spluttered from the arms, its claws looking more like red steel, a tainted sword being readied at a blacksmith's.

The others went to attack and Hales gasped in horror. Quickly, I put my hands over her eyes and told her, "Focus on me," I said as urgently as I could, "Only on my voice." It was getting close. The demon threw Fenris against the wall, arms crushing his ribs. He was fast weakening and Anders' spells couldn't last forever.

I tried to focus on her. Hales was breathing, her eyes closed and I whispered, "Let it go. Let that ball of energy leave you entirely."

I felt her tremble, felt her mana expand, contract and then saw it push out through the palms of her outstretched hands. It was an explosion of energy, blue-white light chasing towards the demon, thrusting it against the room, holding it in a corner. The job was done, Fenris was already cutting the monster to pieces but Hales was crying out, her body tensing against it.

I closed my eyes, my arms tightening around her waist, like it would be the final time I ever got to touch her again. With my mouth at her ears, my words were whispered but she heard them with crystal clarity, "Accept that power. Don't fight it. Enjoy it. I'm right here, I'd never let anything hurt you." On an instinct, I felt a bolt of Cleansing Wave leave my body, making her slacken and relax into her power. There was a slight stutter in her spell, a slight weakening before one muscle at a time, I felt her body relaxed, falling slack against mine though her power was still leaving her body. When the streams of mana lessened and eventually disappeared, her body was alive and thrumming without the paleness of the clammy shaking.

"Oh…" she murmured in soft content. I smiled into her neck, inhaling her scent. Ferelden night orchids, sweet summer rains and magic. That was one trigger down, wasn't it?

In the background, Anders was healing Fenris and Hales and I were healing one another. Our hearts. Our minds. She smiled up to me, brown eyes gazing up to me with love in her eyes.

I felt my breath knocked out of me. Did she know that she loved me?

A voice cut through our comfortable atmosphere, "Hey Junior! You're not supposed to be holding the woman of your dreams when there's a great big, dirty monster out to kill everyone!"

Varric. Hales tensed immediately and pushed me away, her eyes wide staring at me then at herself and then back at me. Merrill, Aveline, Isabela and Varric. The whole group was here. I wasn't sure if I was elated at the help or disappointed that I wouldn't be able to help Hales with her triggers. She'd never let me get close with everyone around.

Isabela eyed us with speculative interest, "So… you two finally getting it on, huh? Any room for-"

"No!" I shouted. Isabela had a great chest but I wasn't about to share Hales with anybody.

"No need to get so touchy," she giggled.

Hales avoided me but granting Merrill a light hug, she asked Varric, "How did you know we were here?"

He chuckled, "Followed the trail of blood you left. Thought you'd need a hand with all this so I came along."

Hales nodded, standing upon the stone circle. The amber glow had reduced but it was still vibrating with energy. The crazy Gray Warden came back, limping in, "Go. Put that key to the seal. Absorb the magic!"

Without looking at me, Hales waved me to get the job done. The staff was connected to the magic and it thrummed in my hands, like it was about to fly out of my grip. I hung on as all around me lightening struck the staff, absorbing the violet mana until my staff glowed purple for a moment and all around us was just torchlight. No eerie magical glows left.

"The blood works. It is good," said the Warden, his bits of hair looking flea-bitten.

"All this talk of blood is creepy. Are you going to tell me your name?" Hales asked.

"Name…" he said disoriented, "So long since I've said my name… La… Larius!" he said with a flourish, "I am Larius. There was a title, too… Commander! Commander of the Grey!" Well, he was in Grey Warden armour. That much at least made sense.

Anders frowned, "He was a Warden. Poor wretch must have come down here on his Calling," he said with a sympathetic tone.

"Yes! The Calling… the songs get louder. Only death stops them…" said Larius, "I am dead… but I never died."

Hales was too worriedly looking at Anders to really pay attention, "What are you talking about?"

He explained, "Wardens aren't immune to the taint forever. In time, we start hearing voices. The same ones darkspawn hear. Eventually…" She and Fenris blanched at the implication.

She went back to Larius, her eyes still scared, "I've opened the seal. Will the prison release me?"

Larius told us ominously, "There are more. Follow them in. All the way to the heart. Many locks. Only one key." Then he stuttered, gasped, like truly in fear, "C-Corypheus calls! In the darkness! What waits there?" He ran away.

Hales ordered imperiously, "We stay together at all times. No one wanders off. Keep an eye out, when you see red glowing things, tell Carver to touch it."

We wandered the prison's many corridors, torches casting a cold glow around the stone walls despite its supposedly warm colour. Griffon statues were all around, there were two guarding every seal but I felt their eyes watching me with something of ghostly quality rather than heroism. The next demons we fought were easily defeated with all of us together as a group. Merrill's blood magic was uncharacteristically strong and many times, I had to resist the urge to send a Cleansing Wave her way.

Why was it that her sweet nature didn't justify her use of blood magic? It was in the magic, the taste of taint, the inherent evil. Though Hales was a sorceress capable of some horrifying deeds, her magic had tasted sweet at the back of my tongue.

Father's deep rumbling voice echoed again at the defeat of the second demon, "I may have left the Circle but I took a vow. My magic will serve that which is the best in me not that which is most base."

I recognized the phrase, "That which is best in me…" I looked at Hales, "Father used to say that, didn't he? To you and Bethany?" I frowned, "She never felt like she could live up to him."

She nodded, "I just hope they are together… wherever they are. Talking about magic…gossiping together."

Isabela added helpfully, "They'll be gossiping together about you, I'm sure!"

Merrill chirped brightly, "Do you think they're upset that the two of you haven't become a couple yet?"

Fenris snarled, Anders slapped a hand to his forehead, Aveline cringed, Isabela patted her on the back, Varric chuckled and Hales _ran_ towards the next exit. Merrill frowned, "Did I say something wrong?" Naïve, I thought.

Later on, after one more demon down, a pride demon this time, all of us were exhausted, ready to drop to sleep in a rather hostile environment. Our Father's voice boomed out again. This time there was a blue glow, with Father's blue eyes inside them, "I've bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the babies. We'll be together. I hope they take after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one." The ghost of our Father's voice faded.

Hales cried out in almost teary emotion, "Set up camp. We're not dealing with anything more until tomorrow."

As everyone scattered off, each of them unpacking their blankets, rolls and whatever else, I spoke to her directly, "Father didn't want a child with magic? He got that one wrong twice over!"

She reminded me, "I'm not his child. My magic doesn't even come from him."

I shrugged, "Still. I guess the Templar's not such a disappointment now."

Her jaw dropped at my statement. She started primly, "You're turning into a colossal prig," reminding me of my old words, "Maker! I would have thought that after becoming a Templar, you'd understand but you just don't get what mages go through everyday! The things we deal with, what would you know?" she rounded on me.

I hated her criticism, "Oh yes," I started sarcastically, "That does tend to be the excuse you lot tend to _trot out_." Her expression turned towards icy and I sighed, hadn't we moved past this phase? I groaned out, "Maker, it's like we're back in Lothering, sniping just to –" _keep up appearances, _I thought to myself but amended, "sniping for no good reason."

She heard it though, the implication. I continued, "I did worry sometimes, for you two. Bethany just wanted to be 'normal'. As if I made a good case for that."

Hales smiled, "She knew what we could be. Well, Father knew what we could be, too. He didn't call you his 'iron fist' for nothing. I remember him telling me that morning, like it was just a few hours ago," her eyes were faraway, glimmering with unshed tears, "He said you'd leave craters in this world."

I nearly smiled at the thought, remembering the note he left me, "He wrote me a letter. That's how I found out about you being adopted. He said that you were his 'burning, fiery star' and that one day, you'd make a mark on the world." She closed her eyes, remembering the past and I continued, "We'll see, I suppose. He's still gone though. Bethany's gone. I'm so tired of losing things."

"I know what you mean," she whispered, eyes glimmering with a wistful yearning, the fire in her eyes gone.

"I miss her and Father… Mother's food… you sometimes," _all the time, every minute of every day_, _all the little smiles and quirks and the apple pies you used to make,_ I thought to myself, "Gamlen can go suck an egg," I added roughly. Her giggle was a girlish trill that I hadn't heard in years.

We were silent for a while, enjoying that friendly atmosphere that didn't come up enough between the two of us anymore. After all these years, she was always the one. I almost shook my head at myself. I wanted to see her girlish smile, see her hum contentedly to herself, watch her blush when I kissed her. Those days in Lothering seemed so far away. It was a different kind of need, the need to love. Not just touch her but to comfort and protect. Maybe the need for family.

Then she broke the silence, the daydream in my mind with, "So… why did you end up joining the Templars?"

I was instantly defensive, "I have to defend the one moment I stopped waiting and did something?"

She shook her head, "I'm not asking you to defend. I just want to understand. You get why I lied to you by now, I'm sure. I need to understand, too. I thought you were just trying to spite me… but," she glanced into my eyes just once before looking away, "I know you. You'd have left by now if it was just to spite me. The Templar life isn't exactly fun."

I gestured uselessly, "No. It wasn't to spite you."_It was to protect you, you little freak!_ "We spent so long running, and why? Because of magic… the Blight, money _and_ abuses." I shook my head with resignation, "Well I'm no mage," I repeated each failure that I was, "I'm no Warden… and you didn't need me," _didn't want to need me_, I thought, "But maybe… maybe there's one thing I can do." I stood taller, "Father believed in a Templar," I said with conviction, "Why can't I?" _Why can't you, you little freak?_ I raged to myself, I wanted her to believe in me. She said nothing.

Later on that night when most of our group had fallen asleep, Hales lifted herself from her bedroll beside mine. I couldn't sleep, lost in my thoughts of the possibilities of us. She looked around surreptitiously and I quickly closed my eyes shut as she looked at me. When I heard her bare feet patter against the stone floor, I cracked my eyes open just a little. She went to Anders, shaking him from his sleep.

"What? What?" I heard him say, sounding grouchy.

"I need to talk to you," she hissed.

"Come on, let's go somewhere else."

They crept to a nearby alcove and when they rounded the corner, I decided to follow. In another room, Anders hugged Hales close, murmuring to her, "…one trigger… there'll be others… others that don't involve him…" I heard murmurs of their voices, catching some more words until she said, "What if he's the trigger? He's always been the one who got through to me my entire life. Without his voice in my ear, I couldn't do it again. I tried. And nothing," she said with desperation, "Everything in my life… it always comes down to Carver. Freaking Carver. I couldn't do it again. Not without him. Not without his voice!" She exclaimed with frustration, "Why him? Why not another man?"

"Maybe you just need time. Don't force yourself. Maybe you should just give yourself some more time and try again. By then, it might be unlocked," he comforted. Then he added, "Or maybe you and Carver should just…"

"No!" she hissed, "I can't. We can't."

"Why not? You're not even a Hawke. Everyone knows that. He kissed you today, didn't he?"

She sighed in wistful longing, "I thought I was back in Lothering for a moment, back at our old house, on the grass. Oh Anders… sometimes I just want… Never mind what I want. It'll never happen. What about Mother? I… She would be alright with it, I guess. I don't know. I don't know how to face all this. You know at Viscount's Keep… he touched me."

"I kind of gathered that," he said snidely.

"No, you don't understand. He _touched _me… and I suddenly had power. Today, he touched me and it all made sense. He shot me with a Cleansing Wave and all it did was relax me. It didn't even affect me adversely." She sounded so scared, I wanted to hold her and tell her that I'd never hurt her.

Anders sighed, "I know. I felt it just briefly. It makes sense. Templar skills are to counteract mages and their spells. It isn't developed enough to actually affect sorceresses, I imagine. If you ask me, I'd tell you to experiment with him some. I think you and he could share your own connection."

Our own connection? That sounded promising. Would we be able to share lyrium and mana the way she could with Anders? Did that mean I could cast spells?

I heard their voices come towards me and I sprinted towards the bedroll, throwing the covers over myself to prevent suspicion. I felt her slide into her own bedroll beside me and thinking I was asleep, she brushed her lips over mine with tenderness and curled into me for just a moment. Her walls were crumbling. She couldn't ignore the temptation of us any more than I could.

When she tried to retreat, I wrapped my arm around her waist and feigning sleep, I rolled her with me so her head was on my shoulder. She squeaked, hissed in my ear, "Carver!" but I made a low sound at the back of my throat and held her tighter to me. I felt her exasperated smile against my shoulder and knowing defeat, she slept in my arms, pulling her blankets closer so we could share our warmth.

I didn't get very much sleep – the thought that her sorcery wasn't working well without me sent chills of anticipation right down my spine. Maybe my plans of convincing her would work, after all.

_Hales_

When dawn broke out, I was the first to awaken. I could feel the sun's rays despite not being able to see it. I could sense that the day had begun though within the tower, it was still dark except for the last dregs of burning firelight. Carver's arms were twisted with my own and knowing he was asleep, I snuggled in deeper. To wake up each morning like this would be wondrous. Still, I knew this could not continue long. Carver did not know of my Princess status and he was a Templar here in Kirkwall. I needed to go back to Ferelden.

I questioned myself as to why I hadn't told him about my Princess status. I mean, I was trying to protect him with my adoption thing. I wanted to be able to face Mother. What did it really matter now? After all, I was the Princess. I could do whatever I liked. I might have been brought up with Carver _Hawke_ but I was Hales Theirin… not a true Hawke, no one could say anything. And Mother didn't care anymore, did she? She didn't seem like she minded.

Why didn't I tell him? Was it because I was used to keeping secrets? Was it because I would hurt his pride? Was it because he might sulk when he realized that I was _'_better' than him? Was it because I still didn't think it was right? Was I still worried he would hurt me? It was beginning to occur to me that I could be refusing to tell him things just on principle, because I had been so used to keeping secrets. The thoughts worried me more than I could say.

Despite my concerns, I still wanted to be with him. I wanted him to touch me, to kiss me, to love me until the whole world shattered around me. A slight touch from him was even more exciting than making love to Mikhail… and Mikhail had always been exceedingly kind to me.

I touched his face, his few days worth of stubble scraping the palms of my hand. He was my trigger. He always had been. Hadn't Carver always been the one for me no matter how much I tried to deny it? It was too late, I was too in love with him to ever walk away now. I couldn't reject his advances anymore. I couldn't stop kissing him. I couldn't push him away. I simply didn't have the strength for it.

Unable to resist the temptation before me, I shifted around in the mix of our blankets, sidling deeper into his warmth before kissing him, soft and slow, my tongue sliding forward with excruciating care to glide just once across his mouth. Yes, kissing him was even more exciting than making love to another. It was like a drug, addicting, coursing through my veins with a pleasure that I had yet to truly savour. My arms wrapped around him easily.

Then Carver's arms tightened around me and I froze, instantly panicking as he chuckled out, "That's two kisses you've sneaked… trying to tell me something?" His voice was rough but it slid over me like velvet rather than sandpaper. I twisted away but his arms refused to let me go and he laughed smugly, "Oh no, you don't. You don't get to kiss me when I'm asleep and think you can get away with it! Turnabout is fair play, Hales." He bent his head to kiss me again.

"You!" I hissed out, dodging his lips, "You weren't asleep! You were – Carver!" I nudged him, "Get off me!" I protested as he rolled his weight onto me, holding me captive. I felt his stubble scrape against my cheek as he nuzzled underneath my ear, his rough chuckle sounding and I giggled at the sensations, still struggling and shoving at him.

Then something came over me, flames licked over my body and one second too late, I recognized Carver's Righteous Smite. It washed over me easily, not damaging me at all but rather, just relaxing me, making me feel whole and content. My mana stores were still completely unchanged.

There was silence between us as my mind recovered from being blissfully empty, lost in the sensations of his warmth and strength, gentle kisses right below my ear. Somehow, his touches were even more magnified without the distraction of the world around me. I didn't feel threatened at all, I felt _safe_. Vulnerable and safe at the same time – this feeling was what I had been looking for all along.

Anders was right. Carver and I could probably share some kind of connection.

Still, Carver was an ass and my hand went swinging through the air, landing upon his shoulder with a loud_ thwack_. "You ass!" I hissed at him, "You smited me!"

"I _smote_ you, actually." He corrected me unrepentantly, a glint of triumph and success in his eyes.

I tried to argue, mid-yawn and mind still scattered and gone, "But you're a mage and I'm a Templar." It took a moment before I even realized what I said and as he sniggered, I corrected, "No. The other way around. You're powers are opposite to mine, you can still weaken me."

"Yes but I can't hurt you with it. My talents are for hostile magic. Are you hostile?"

"Well, no…but-"

He interrupted with a soft kiss, "I heard you and Anders last night. You and I _could_ share that private connection."

I tried to glare daggers at him for eavesdropping but he only caressed my face, "My talents can affect you adversely if you were hostile to me. If I wanted to attack you. That's never going to happen. We could share a connection, Hales. Think about it."

Like I would be able to think about something else, I thought with resentment, and he knew it too. He knew my mind would whir around that topic endlessly. I tried to glare at him some more and he bent his head down, laying deep kisses upon my lips, gently prying my mouth open so he could taste me, tickling the roof of my mouth with his tongue. I forgot where I was and moaned into him.

Aveline's reprimanding voice interrupted us and I nearly died of shame, "Keep it down you two. No one wants to know."

Isabela giggled, "I do, Big-Girl! Why are you ruining my fun?"

I saw Carver's grimace, his eyes rolling in rich irritation. When I smiled, he kissed my forehead and muttered, "Good morning." His eyes were so warm in the firelight, a warm and sweet blue rather than icy. I wanted to drown in them. Feeling decadent, I stretched against him, using his chest as a pillow whilst he held me and dozed some more, lightly tickling him with my mana. I felt his smug amusement.

_Just couldn't help yourself, could you Hales?_

Huh. Now wasn't that different? That wasn't my thought. That was very much Carver's voice.

I poked him and tried to reach out to his lyrium. _Shut up, you smug, sanctimonious prig._

There was shocked silence. _You can hear me? _

I retreated, bringing my mana back into myself. I could hear him alright but as I thought the words out in my mind, there was no response from him. He stared down at me with questions in his eyes, "Well?"

So, it only worked when we were connected. We still had our own privacies. I nodded, "I can. But only when my mana is connected with your lyrium."

He frowned a little in concentration, pushing lyrium out of his body and into mine. I felt the connection snap together briefly. _Can you hear me now?_ His voice echoed into my mind.

I nodded against him. It was a two-way thing. He could connect with me anytime he liked. I wasn't sure if I liked it or was afraid of it. Somehow, I wasn't sure I even cared.

I couldn't help it, I mused. When Carver was near, it was doubly hard to resist him. Why was his surly demeanour so enticing anyway? I was supposed to be staying away from him, wasn't I? Though the reasons behind that were becoming blurry ideas that I was starting to lose track of. I had to give in. It was too late.

Still, the last vestiges of resistance were within me and I sighed in aggravation before pulling myself up and away from his body, taking my armour to get changed away from the group. I yanked the nightgown over my head, leaving me uncovered save for my smallclothes when his voice called out behind me, "Need some help?"

I looked over my shoulder to find him leaning against the stone walls, eyes roaming up and down my half-naked form. "Do you mind?" I asked incredulously whilst pulling on my leathered pants.

"Nope," he said as he came towards me, snatching the rest of my armour from the floor to help me into it. He stood behind me, holding out my thick leather top out in front of me so I could slide my arms in before he helped me with the ties at the back.

"Thank y-" I gasped, feeling his fingers tracing along my spine, lips pressing at the base of my neck, ties definitely still undone. Warm hands slid from my back to my stomach, caressing and stroking, holding me to his chest like a gilded cage.

"I – er…" I stammered, "I don't think … What are you doing?"

"Kissing you," he answered easily, "I'm kissing your neck and now," he dipped lower, "your spine." His lips went towards the small of my back, his knees hitting the floor as mine threatened to buckle. My hands found his shoulders and gripped on. I felt him smiling into my skin, arms very gently pulling me down so I was in his lap, his face nuzzling into my neck. Carver's lyrium bonded into my body, pressed into my heart and I gasped as he_ smote_ me again. Blue flames hit my body, covering me and comforting me, like little tendrils tickling me, pleasuring me. It was different this time, sweeter, gentler, reaching into me to love me.

I sighed out in bliss, leaning into him so I could enjoy more of his affection before reminding him with a moue of reluctance, "I don't think that's how you do up my armour."

I felt him smile, kiss behind my ear before his hands tugged at the strips of leather keeping my armour together and pulling them into a knot at the base of my spine. "There," he said with satisfaction, "all done. Now run along and wait with the group."

I wasn't ready to leave him yet. I felt so relaxed, so content, I wanted to stay in his arms forever. I offered quickly, "I could help you –"

He turned me around, blue eyes kind and loving, "If you help me into my armour, Hales, I'll just end up taking it off and peeling you out of those sexy little things you call leather." His voice lowered into a husky whisper, "Then I'd make love to you until we both ached with it and as much as I'd like to do that," he gently pushed me away, "I'd rather not let our first time be in a dusty fortress with us smelling that dirt, grime and blood. Later," he promised me, insistent hands pushing me out of the room.

For a while there as our group was travelling along, I was thoroughly distracted. He certainly didn't help matters, giving me those secretive looks, his blue eyes gleaming with happiness and mischief at the same time. There were those hip brushes again, taking every opportunity for his hand to graze my hips, my back or my arm anytime we were close. Maker, it was like we were in Lothering again! Then again, I mused, those were the best days of my life, weren't they?

But now, the distraction was double. We could link up now, touch each other in ways that others couldn't see, speak and communicate such that others couldn't hear.

And then there was that conversation with Isabela. That nearly stopped my heart.

Isabela had said seductively to Carver, "You certainly fill out a skirt, Carver. A shame," she quipped with a light-hearted tone, "I suppose you're all religious and such now."

I scoffed, that was utter bullshit. His touch this morning hadn't been the product of chastity or religion.

He had grinned to himself, answering her with an almost suggestive tone, "Do you know how long the Chant of Light is?" He flickered his eyes towards me, winking at me, "The _stamina_, it requires."

Isabela's interest was thoroughly piqued, "Go on."

He said in a husky breath, daring me to dream of the things he could say with that deeply erotic voice he had on, "With passion'd breath comes darkness, but with many against Her, She finds His Light untiring as it _parts_ the Veil."

Isabela giggled, "Not sure if I'm aroused or scared, I like it."

I liked it, too. I felt the ache in my belly grow, stoking a fire within me. I swallowed thickly, exhaled slowly and blushed…deeply. As we continued to walk through the many stone corridors, Carver's voice was in my mind as our connection snapped together momentarily.

_Breathe… Wouldn't want everyone knowing just how much you enjoyed that, hmm?_

I knocked my shoulders with him aggressively but it didn't stop that smug grin from spreading across his face. Nor did it stop his lick of flames from casually sliding down my spine in a manner that had me almost quivering or his lips from finding mine even in front of everyone else.

We found Larius again at some point, he tried to explain that he had lived down here for a very long time by feeding on darkspawn. The notion nearly made me retch. There was very little real wisdom he could impart, all he wanted us to do was keep moving and kill someone called Corypheus. We still weren't sure what this Corypheus was. A man? A darkspawn? An awakened darkspawn? Even Anders wasn't sure.

We broke another seal, tainted purples swirling around concentric circles. A demon launched itself at us, large, black, shiny and glossy, horns gleaming from candlelight and smoothness. It was gigantic, onyx blades for arms, thick statues of brutish flesh and rock for legs. Its breath was fire, smelling of animal faeces and other putrid substances. I nearly ran away to vomit.

The fight was simple with so many of us grouped together. The problem was that without Carver's voice in my ear, I couldn't repeat my powerful surges from the day before. I tried but managed only tiny wisps until his hand found mine. It was like a connection and instantly, I remembered how to do it again. My trigger was Carver. That fact alone scared me more than I could say.

We didn't hit real problems until we entered the caves, very deep down at the heart of the tower. It was a maze of rock, green hazy gas issuing from beneath our feet, through the cracks of the earth and ground.

Suddenly, Anders doubled over, crying out, "Stop! Just make him stop talking!" He yelled out, "Make him stop!"

Isabela shook him, "Anders? Shit! It's this place, isn't it? It's driving him mad!"

Anders fell to the ground, upon his hands and knees and knowing I had to do something, I ran to him, merging our mana instantly. Anders' mind was in uproar. Justice hated the darkness, the taint, the Calling. I could hear it suddenly in my own mind, too. Like Corypheus was Calling me, telling me to kill, to bleed myself. Both of them clung to my mind, using me like an anchor. I tried to comfort, our foreheads pressed together as slowly, Anders got himself under control. It wasn't complete but with our minds merged, we could continue. I felt the pressure though, the temptation to cut myself, to slice my arms open so blood would flow. I stared at Isabela's daggers, actually walked towards her before Fenris shook me from my trance. I tried to focus upon my own thoughts rather than Corypheus' call.

As Anders got up, he said with fear in his voice, "I guess they are right. You can't ever leave the Wardens. I just hope I can control them… both."

Isabela comforted, "You'll be fine. Worrying about it never helps."

I told him, "You have me… just focus on me. We'll get out of this cave soon. I promise."

We found the third seal and breaking it was just as simple as the previous ones. Carver pulled out the staff that wouldn't work in my hands, raised it to the yellow glows of the seal and it popped open. Demons would appear, we would each yell out in battle cries, hiss out in pain and fight all the harder. Fuelled by anger and frustration, Anders did amazingly well as he shouted, "I'll show you why mages are feared!" If the situation hadn't been so dire, I probably would have laughed at his cheesy line.

As we exited the caves, the tower seemed to shake. Dust fell from the 'ceilings' and small pieces of rock fell. I frowned, not a good sign. Larius came towards us again, "He feels the seals weaken. He knows you are close. You must be ready…" Then he looked about, instantly alert, "What's that? Who? No… No! They're here!"

"Who?" I asked urgently.

"The Wardens! They listen to Corypheus. They want to bring him the light. Stop them," he said whilst retreating, "You must stop them!"

A group of Wardens came from behind another path. I heard a brassy woman's voice, "Something's happening. The prison's breaking down! But it's stood up to tunnelling before. What can-" Her eyes fell upon us, upon Carver as she addressed him, "You! You have the key! And you've come through the seals! But how?"

She looked at me, recognizing my face, "Champion. Are you the one? The same Hawke, child of Malcolm?"

I looked at Carver and he gave me a tight nod but I never got the chance to respond. She shook her head, her green eyes eerily glowing like a cat's and her frown was so deep, I wondered what was wrong with her, "The Carta said they were close. You must be her. I am Janeka. I lead this unit of the Grey Wardens."

Carver asked her, "Why are you interested in my Father?"

"Then you don't know?" she seemed surprised, "Without Malcolm, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago."

"Let me guess," I asked with a sardonic tone, "It had something to do with this fancy thing?" pointing towards Carver's staff.

She frowned at me some more, "The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful darkspawn we've ever encountered." She stepped towards me with what seemed like a threatening pose. My spine stiffened and my eyes narrowed as she told me, "But even the best magic fades. The Wardens need to reinforce the seals. This requires the blood of a mage untainted by… Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your father."

I was surprised, "My Father was a blood mage?" Surely some mistake had been made. He always told us never to resort to that.

"To avert the Blights, forbidden magics are sometimes necessary," she argued. I frowned, typical excuse. Her voice was grating to me, harsh and edgy. I didn't like it. She took in my expression and sneered, "He did not bind the demons, if that is your concern. That was done in another era, before the Chantry's laws."

"Right," was my one word answer.

"We need your help, Hawke. I have done extensive research on this darkspawn and I believe the original Wardens were wrong. He isn't a threat to humanity," her voice was softening, cajoling almost, "He's our greatest opportunity. A darkspawn that can talk, feel, reason…"

Larius' voice was full of conviction, the edge in his voice making him seem volatile and demanding, "Corypheus cares nothing for Blights. He used you!"

"The Warden Commander!" gasped one of the unit's men.

"Don't listen to this…creature. He's half-darkspawn himself," sneered Janeka, "I know how to harness Corypheus, use his magic to end the Blights."

"No!" Larius made a violent gesture, "The Wardens knew. Corpheus is too powerful!"

It seemed wrong that Janeka could be so dismissive of her former leader. From what I knew, many of those who received the Calling became 'half-darkspawn' for a while. In fact, weren't Wardens all 'half-darkspawn' anyway? Didn't Alistair have to drink darkspawn blood?

I really didn't like Janeka and the more she spoke, the more my derision grew. Elissa had once told me about the Architect, an intelligent darkspawn emissary who had little understanding about the culture of other races. She told me that though he seemed polite, he was manipulative and cold, uncaring towards his allies. She had, along with Anders, killed the Architect.

Anders persuaded, "Don't do it, Hales. You can't trust a darkspawn to honour any deal." I looked to him and smiled with reassurance. The rest stayed quiet though Carver pressed his hand tightly into the small of my back, and instinctively I knew that he didn't like the Janeka's idea either.

"Corypheus calls her, and she listens! She brought him the Carta and sent them for you!" said Larius, trying to convince me to side with him. He needn't have bothered. Whatever Corypheus was, he was powerful. No mage could control him as she suggested.

Janeka and Larius continued to bicker. I intervened, "You don't know that you can control him, Janeka. He doesn't have to help you."

"I am no fool, Hawke. I have a spell which can control Corypheus, bind him to my will."

If I had been unsure of my decisions before, this certainly sealed it. What person thought themselves powerful enough to bind another to its will could not possibly be good news. I told her, "I won't risk releasing him."

"We'll find a way to do this with or without you, Hawke." She sneered and I heard the threat behind her words. After all, she only needed my blood… or rather, Carver's blood. She made a quick escape, blocking the paths with fire before she and her men disappeared.

Carver said quietly, "She doesn't know that you're –"

I hushed him, "What she doesn't know won't kill her. Yet."

We rushed to the third seal, following Larius' lead. I wasn't sure why we needed to rush. Janeka needed the key and Carver had it, lodged and secured upon his back. I suppose it was fear and the need to get this over and done with.

At some point, Larius informed me that we had reached Riannon's Floor, in which to get to the other side, we needed to search the room and solve a puzzle. There were power nexuses all over the room, beams of green, red, blue and orange running about. It was fairly obvious that I had to align the beams accurately and the door would open.

It was frustrating. The barriers hid demons and when I made a mistake, they would be released. I got to the point where I cursed rather unladylike and loud. Carver guffawed and I snapped, "It's not funny, you flea-bitten Templar!" He continued to laugh, not taking what I had said to heart. Varric had been most helpful. He seemed to know instinctively how to solve it. Eventually, the beams turned to white and I nearly kissed him in gratitude.

Janeka returned, bickered and insulted more than my tolerance could take. I tuned her out and shouted at her, "Shut up! Trying to keep us away won't do anything more than delay us. You are without blood and key!"

She narrowed her eyes at me, summoning a revenant and four emissaries. She mocked, "I can take blood and key after this."

They were beings of darkness, of blood magic. The revenant was pure evil, dark and rotting, flesh hissing as even movements made it fall apart. It was alive through possession and magic alone. Blood spotted its tarnished armour. The emissaries were tall, ghost-like, protecting the revenant through some dark form of healing magic.

Physical damages were impossible, spells were deflected, one even healed. I gnashed my teeth together, fuelled by irritation and hatred. I shouted to them, "Kill the emissaries. Leave the revenant last."

I pulled at my mana. Whether I felt awful afterwards or not, I was sick to death of being delayed. I wasn't spending another Maker awful moment in this _tomb_ of a tower. A thin veil surrounded everyone. A one-way shield. Nothing could attack us but we could attack them. I sat at the edge of the room, focusing on my power, keeping everyone protected. When I felt myself weakening, I continued to push, until the emissaries fell. The revenant had too many to defend itself from. Spells ruptured its stone armour, swords sliced at its thickened leathery flesh. Fire burned. Metal cut.

And I sat against the wall, shaking, feeling cold to the core. I felt like death was warming up. My vision was blurry, my head ached, I was shivering and cold sweat broke from my body. I had seen many refugees smoking all sorts of poisonous substances in Darktown and I saw how their bodies reacted some hours without the poison. That was how I felt, like I was burning and dying from the inside. It would pass, I knew, it was just a sensation of being pushed too far. It no more damaged me than a breeze could suffocate.

"Shit! What's happening to her?" asked Isabela.

"She's pushed too hard. Again," claimed Anders, heaving a groan, "She's not supposed to push that hard when she hasn't found her triggers yet."

I felt Carver's arms around me, felt him pull me into his body tightly. He was worried, "We found her trigger yesterday. She was fine yesterday when she –"

"I know that. I saw," Anders interrupted, "But that's not the way it works. She has many triggers. They have to be triggered in order. If you're –"

"Well you didn't tell me that yesterday, you jackass!" Carver cried out as I moaned out in relief, collapsing against his chest, finding the reprieve from his touch.

"Shut up, Carver. I'm trying to tell you what's going on," he snarled, "Now. If you're one of the later triggers, then without the previous ones happening, you will have to reactivate that trigger every time. If your voice or your touch is her trigger, you'll have to be touching her the entire time."

Varric intervened, "So in short, she has to stick with Junior whilst spell casting until she hits her triggers?"

"Yes. Finally, someone understands!"

When I recovered, I got up from Carver's chest, pulling myself together. "I'm fine," I said to reassure everyone.

Carver swore at me, "You sure as fuck don't look fine. Maker, Hales. You'll end up killing yourself!"

I still shook a little but Merrill's blood magic was slowly healing me and I told them, "Really, I'm fine. I'm just going through what all mages go through when you clap those mana-absorbing irons on them. It doesn't actually damage at all."

In my mind, Carver's words were equally as loud. _You need to figure out your triggers, Hales. You might not think you are doing any damage but just look at you! What is your first trigger?_

I snapped our link shut. He was my first trigger. There was a need within me to spill out every secret I had. That would be it, I just knew it.

Anders kneeled down at my level, his eyes bright blue. I asked tentatively, "Justice?"

I could feel him reaching into me, using the bond between Anders and me to investigate something. Then he retreated. Anders returned. He shook his head, "Justice thinks you have three."

I asked dumbly, "Three what?"

Carver rolled his eyes, "Three triggers, stupid. So apparently, I'm one of them. What are the other two?"

My gut screamed at me. I knew what one of them would be. For so long, I had kept so much pain inside of me, I needed to learn how to share those secrets with others. I knew this for every time I shared that secret, there was something within me that opened up. Seeing as everyone knew aside from Carver, the first trigger would unlock when he knew. That was one trigger. Carver's touch or his voice was the second trigger. What could be the third? I mused, probably something Carver related. Didn't my whole world end up revolving around him one way or another? I thought to my days in Ferelden – I learnt to forget him then, didn't I? It had never been enough though. I was always waiting for something…

When my breath eased, Carver's hand found mine. It felt so right. He pulled me up to my feet and I overcompensated, falling upon his armour. As we strode up the stairs, towards the tower, his fingers linked with mine and we smiled at one another. Then atop the tower, my breath left me.

It was night time, beautiful night. The moon was bright and round, full and glowing a gorgeous white and beige. The skies were clear and there were stars everywhere. I stared at the world in wonder. I stood at the edge of the bridge that led to the next seal as Anders commented sardonically, "Let me guess, the prison?"

"Isn't it beautiful out here?" I said in quiet wonder. I had never seen the sky so clear before and the moonlight made everything seem so beautiful. I forgot where I was, forgot that what suddenly seemed so stunning was only ugly a few hours before. Even the unearthly glow of the amber seal seemed romantic rather than alien.

There were mutters of agreement behind me as everyone took the moment to appreciate the night. Carver sidled behind me and asked, "So is this the part where I wrap my arms around the girl and kiss her until she forgets her own name?"

I laughed, a quiet and content shiver of breath as he turned me around, not waiting for an answer, gently lining his lips against mine before coaxing my lips open, rubbing his sensual mouth upon mine, a deep and hot press of his tongue sliding between my parted lips. He teased my tongue with quick flicks, gently bit into my lower lip with exquisite care, tugging lightly before fusing our mouths together again. I felt weak, light-headed like he was sending us flying straight into the sun, bathing me in liquid heat. And when he finally brought me down back to earth, it was comforting, simple with soft and easy kisses as though to wake me from a dream. Lyrium and mana fluttered, a song humming sweetly inside my body.

I wanted to laugh with him, to tell him that I didn't remember my name but all that came out was a soft, "Mmm…" from the back of my throat. He smiled at me, eyes perceptive and fond, and I realized, he already knew, he could hear it in my mind. The soft tugs at the corners of his lips spoke loud enough for the two of us.

Carver was gentle when he reminded me, "Corypheus…"

We crossed the bridge together, all of us in a group. Janeka's voice broke through my dreamy mood, "You're too late, Larius. Hand over Hawke and I'll grant you a swift death."

Larius defended, "Hawke has made her choice – the right one!"

"The right choice or the only choice?" Janeka questioned, her smug smile grating on my nerves, "Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree."

"It is the past. It does not matter!" he insisted. I sensed something wrong. I questioned, "What does she mean?"

Larius was overwhelmed by guilt. I could see it in his face, in his eyes, foggy though they were. He strode to the edge of the bridge, "Malcolm Hawke was reluctant… he had to be persuaded. I was Warden Commander. It was my duty!" He looked at me peripherally, "I delivered an ultimatum… help us or you'll never see her again."

I nearly screamed in rage. Carver's voice was full of anguish, "You did what?" I cried out, "You were going to kill our Mother!"

"No! Never!" He turned back to us, "He came with us. I never had to decide her fate! She was never told about what passed between Malcolm and me."

"That doesn't excuse it!" Carver said, resentment in his voice.

Janeka's smile was still smug, "You see, Hawke? How can you trust anything Larius says?"

I couldn't trust either of them. Janeka's use of manipulation was clear as day and I wouldn't fall for that. I told her, "Larius' actions are reprehensible but that doesn't mean I'll help you."

Her face became an ugly expression once more, "You can come willingly or not, Hawke. I just need your blood," she threatened.

I had truly reached the end of my patience. I squeezed Carver's hand once, felt my power pushing at the Grey Warden's, raising them in the air. Seeing the balconies all around us, I waved my hand violently to the side and threw them all into the abyss.

Varric whistled out in shock, "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Larius waved us into the small dome. There were four statues, each had an amber stream flowing out of it. The seal must have been supported by the statutes. He told us, "The key isn't strong enough. Use your blood."

Together, Carver and I went to each statue, deactivating the spell by placing the key to its base. A small explosion would occur, snapping a stream of amber from the seal. When all was done, Carver went to the centre piece. It was just a circle, just like the other seals but there was something vibrating from it. He took out a dagger, sliced his palm and dripped his blood upon the stone. The seal opened, the glowing amber turning into a column. He placed the key within and stood back, allowing Anders to heal the cut.

What rose from within was like a darkspawn emissary but different. He looked vaguely human. His eyes were still blue but his cheeks were covered in something other substance, like a piece of deformed navy bone was protruding. His skin was mutated, pulling and stretching into ugly lines. Another disc jutted out at his chin and his head was covered by strange plates, triangular pieces like scales lining his skull. I grimaced, "Eurgh," I said. His armour appeared to be almost welded to him, like it was a part of his skeletal structure. It was the same blue by had a dirty purple straps, like muscles holding things together. His voice was scratchy, low and confused, "Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?"

He was ancient. No one spoke like him anymore. He never moved, aside from his head, looking from side to side. His hands, if one could call them hands rather than claws, slowly began to move, like he was learning movement and motion again. He turned to us, addressing Carver, ordering him, "You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte!"

Anders explained in revelation, "Dumat… was the first Old God to become an Archdemon. There haven't been temples to him since ancient Tevinter!"

"You look human," said Corypheus, "Are you not citizens of the Empire? Slaves then, to the dwarves? Why come you here? Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter," he said whilst pointing at us, "On your knees! All of you!"

Fenris snarled in hatred, "I am no slave!"

I managed to say with derision, "You're a darkspawn… Dark… spawn," I emphasized for dramatic effect, "Ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight. Does this ring a bell?" Carver squeezed my hand in warning.

He looked at Carver, "You are what held me. I smell the blood in you." He realized his surroundings and cried out to the open night air, "Dumat! Lord! Tell me. What waking dream is this?"

He said in remembrance, "The light. We sought the golden light. You offered… the powers of the gods themselves. But it was… black… corrupt… Darkness … ever since. How long?"

Anders and I exchanged looks. Was he referring to the corruption of the Golden City? Could he be one of those Tevinter magisters? Larius confirmed, "The Golden City. The first violation. The magisters who brought the Blight."

Anders argued, "That's ridiculous! There were no magical bogeymen who trespassed in the Maker's city. It's a story! It's Chantry propaganda!"

I asked, "Where do _you_ think darkspawn came from?"

"Some creation of the Old Gods, no doubt," he said cynically. I wasn't sure whether to believe him. His judgement tended to be skewed.

"Dumat!" Corypheus called out, "Have you forsaken me? I am your faithful servant…"

Anders fought some more, "The darkspawn aren't just some conveniently explicit lesson on the dangers of magic."

I told him, "Maybe it doesn't matter. Unless Corypheus is for real, everyone who knows what happened is long dead."

"You don't think it's a little convenient," he asked me unhappily, "What does every sane man and woman in Thedas fear? The Blights. Why not pin those on mages too?"

Corypheus turned back to us, "What manner of speech is this? How long have I slumbered?"

Larius was in revelation, "He tainted the world… he speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn. Wardens. He brought Janeka here. Brought you…"

I shook my head, "He's confused. If he's been calling the Wardens to free him, what's his plan?"

Larius had no real answers for me, "He slept. While the seals held, he could not wake. He knows nothing of time that passed. We must kill him now. Before he comes to."

Carver snickered when I joked, "So first he went after the Maker in his house, then me in mine. I'm honoured."

"The city! It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours!" Corypheus demanded whilst his fists clenched, "If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you! I seek the light!" As he prepared to fight us, he cried out, "I've made your sacrifices, Lord. Strengthen me now!" A bolt of lightening shot through him, granting him powers of ice. Whether Dumat was slain or not in physical form, some remnant of him must still exist. He helped Corypheus.

My sorcery was forfeit. Whatever I threw at him, he could throw back at me. I shouted to everyone, "My extra talents are forfeit. Attack in groups." The mages distracted with fiery magic, icy shards and lightening sparks. When he turned to attack us, the warriors sliced him from behind. It was a good strategy… for a while.

Then his powers from Dumat came again and again. He was invincible to our attacks and lines of fire came from his palms endlessly. Varric called out, "The statues. He's getting power from them! Defile them!"

All of us split into four separate groups, defiling the statues with blood. Shade demons came at us, two per statue. Inside those alcoves, Corypheus' attacks were redundant. We were safe. With all of us as a group, the darkspawn's invincibility came to an end quickly.

But as we found out, his powers were truly endless. He teleported from one end of the alcove to another, ice dropped from the ceiling and stone rose from the ground. Lightening shocked all of us each time we strode past. Anders called out, "We're going to need your shields, Hales."

That took Carver and me out of the main fighting. He pulled me into an alcove and whispered, "You need to concentrate. If you don't… we'll all die." I focused on him, each of my breath echoing his. The mana rose out of my body easily, the walls came around everyone. Wispy blue light shone and thin veils covered everyone. I heard shouts. "Take his clothes off!" cried Isabela followed by laughter of, "Seriously, Isabela?"

Corypheus had some divine link to Dumat, his body regenerated easily. It healed him. My mana came to an end and Carver joined the battle. He swung a heavy blow upon Corypheus' leg and the darkspawn pounded the ground with more icy shards. I was struck with an idea. Corypheus was magically powerful but his body was frail. He could no more withstand being crushed than the Arishok could!

I ignored the yells of pain, disregarded their hollers for healing and waited. When Corypheus demanded stone and ice appear from no where, I pulled at Anders' mana, lifting the stones and rocks into the air and when I shouted a cry of warning, everyone ran towards me. Corypheus followed and my rocks collapsed like an avalanche upon him, the huge columns of ice penetrating right through his chest, nailing him to the floor. Corypheus was staring right at Carver as he beheaded him violently, a spray of blood covering Carver's armour and face.

The magical stone and ice eventually dissipated and I strode to the broken body. I found an amulet bearing the seal of Dumat. Anders was shocked, horrified but exposed to a real eye-opener. He explained to me, "That seal. It hasn't been used in years. It goes back to ancient Tevinter. It's possible that he really was _an ancient magister_! I always thought the Black City was a story!"

I shook my head, giving him the amulet, "No matter what, punishing mages a thousand years later is uncalled for."

"Do you think?" he said hesitantly, "I'll need to study this further."

We spoke to Larius and there was something not quite right with him. He seemed saner but his speech… it was different.

"You did well, Hawke… Much more than the Grey Wardens of old were ever able to accomplish. I will tell the Warden Commander of your service here." Then he turned around to tell me, "You've gained an ally today."

I said accusingly, "You're talking funny."

"My head is clear now. Without Corypheus' call, I can think again. I thank you for my freedom. I will never forget what you did here."

A strange chill went down my spine but I let him go. After all, what else could have happened? But when he said to me, "My gratitude you have, for my freedom," I couldn't help but think that Larius wasn't quite all there… not even after Corypheus was dead.

We all turned towards home.

* * *

><p>AN: Alright, I know this is really late. I did promise to have it up sooner but unfortunately, assignments happened and my friend fell sick so she couldn't help me edit!

Anyway, please take my sincerest apologies and please read and review!

Thanks to Mistress Vo for editing!

Love, Ann


	14. Secret Wife

**Chapter 14 – Secret Wife**

_Hales_

Everyone dispersed at the gates of Kirkwall, each heading off in their own directions of what constituted as home. It was very late, each of us tired and possibly wanting the comforts of a bed rather than the uncomfortable stone floors that we had been sleeping on.

Carver walked with me towards the estate, suddenly quiet. He seemed lost in thought, eyes drawn towards the ground, a dent between his eyebrows. At the doorstep of my mansion, he seemed to teeter, confidence gone, unsure of what to say. Gently, I invited him in, "Don't you think Mother would want to see you?"

He gave a jerky nod, gesturing for me to go through the door first with some more erratic motions and followed me in without another word. As I walked into the warm glow of the mansion, I heard his relieved sigh. Oh Carver, you never needed permission to come home.

Mother was horrified, her gasps echoed right through the house. We probably looked a little worse for wear, covered in darkspawn blood, dirt and sixty different types of grime but I wasn't sure why she was so surprised. After all these years, I would think she was used to seeing me come home dirty.

She rounded on us, strict and irritated, "Both of you, bathe now!" She rounded on me, "I'm sure you smell like a darkspawn's armpit!" Carver sniggered and she pointed her index finger threateningly enough for him to pale, "And you! Get that scruffy beard off your face! Both of you stink!"

Carver and I looked at each other, stifling giggles. She hadn't told us off like this since we were little children, rolling around in mud all day. We rushed up the main stairwell, laughing as Mother's voice continually echoed in her chastising. His gauntlets grazed my arm gently and we stared at each other for a moment, content and delighted, before we separated into different rooms.

I lay back in the bathtub, magic at my fingers twirling the water into steaming froths. I began to really think about Carver. Now that I was back in Kirkwall rather than on a mission, I needed to face him and what he represented in my life. The honeymoon was over and now I needed to deal with the consequences. And it was suddenly so simple.

Whether he was coming to Ferelden or not, he deserved to know the truth. He was a man in his own right, for real now. How much more could I protect him?

Not to mention, how could I explain that I had to go back to Ferelden? What if he wanted me to stay in Kirkwall? There was too much that had culminated, all that was left was to lay all the cards on the table.

I had to tell him.

When that fact settled into my gut, I threw myself out of the bathtub, towelling myself dry with quick and rough hands, throwing on a house robe. I was still doing up the silk ties as I was walking downstairs. In the main living area, there were Templars waiting. I found Carver with Mother in the library. He was also donning Templar armour rather than house clothes. He couldn't stay, I thought with disappointment. Just when I wanted to tell him everything.

"…Brrrrrrriiihhhhh and stones falling. Boom!" Carver enacted, evidently in the throes of trying to cheer Mother from her anxiety. He lacked the melodrama he used to have. The immaturity had long faded after so many years.

"Carver dear, please!" Mother was part amused and part still concerned. Lothering really did seem like a lifetime ago. I leaned against the doorjamb, watching him.

He relented, "Right right. The important part is that we won't be attacked again. It was all about blood. About Father." Then he looked up, sensing me and waved me over to sit beside him, "The attacks, darkspawn, every bloody part of it," he continued easily, "all because of what happened years ago. All those things he did, he did for you, Mother." His eyes found mine, gauntleted hand brushed at the small of my back, "…For all of us, really." My heart skipped a beat.

Mother sighed, the sounds of regret and missing in her voice, "Oh Malcolm, I can't believe he kept that from me. It's like he's still with us but it isn't really true… not really. He went through so much to protect us… I wish he had shared the burden," She looked at the both of us, her hand tracing my cheek and then Carver's now shaved chin, "I see so much of Malcolm in you both. Carver, your intractability comes from him. And you," she glanced at me, "you've learnt to keep secrets the way he did. Sometimes I feel like I know him even better now that he is gone than when we were together. I suppose I may have been wilfully blind."

There was so much love in her voice still, so much love and laughter. The memories must have been beautiful. I smiled dreamily, "How did the heir to the Amell's even meet a Ferelden apostate anyway?"

She giggled, almost girlishly, "He wasn't always an apostate. He was junior enchanter at the Gallows. We met at some Viscount's function where mages were called upon to perform. I always thought that mages were grizzly old men in strange robes but Malcolm… he wasn't what I pictured. He was such a wit… couldn't get a straight answer for anything… but so alive. It was infuriating and fascinating… but it was so long ago. We found ways to meet privately after that." She laughed in memory, remembering Father's face and voice.

"Didn't you want to go to Ferelden?" asked Carver inquisitively, "You were a Kirkwaller, after all."

She explained, "My parents made it clear that I wasn't to have a future in Kirkwall with Malcolm. They threw me out without a silver to my name. And of course, he came from the Circle with nothing. I never realized how much he did to buy us safe passage," she ended upon a wistful note.

Carver tried to cheer her up, "Would he really be a Hawke if he didn't try to fix the whole world's problems single-handedly?" whilst shooting me a mockingly baleful glare tempered by a light lyrium tickle.

The joke made her laugh and she smiled, "Oh so I should know by now not to stop the two of you – not that I ever had a choice. After all, Malcolm always thought that it would be the two of you who would go out there and do great things." Her expression became sad, "Bethany just wanted to be normal. You know, I still remember when you gave me my Father's will… the way the two of you looked." She ruffled my damp hair, "It was so long ago but I remember the two of you, bruised and battered but drunk on adrenaline. Things used to be so simple…" then she smiled again, this time hopeful, "but we have a new life now and we must think of tomorrow. Malcolm gave us that."

I told her, "He made do with what was at hand… frighteningly at hand but still…" I shook my head, wondering how we could ever live up to him. Would I ever? Probably not.

"He was never one to let the scale of a problem defeat him. He met such things point for point." She said affectionately and with bravado, "A heroic victory, I think he'd say, with a greater command of the phrase."

I shared with her, "We heard his voice," I tried to mimic Father's low and booming voice, "That which is best in me," as Carver chuckled, "Remember those days, Mother? When he'd teach Bethany and me magic… talking about we should use magic to serve that which is best in me?" She smiled and nodded. I turned to Carver, "You never liked that he spent so much time with Bethany and I but it wasn't all bad. He was really proud of you, his little soldier."

He nodded, almost smiling, "He started training me too, best he could. Then I picked up some things from the soldiers who came through." He chuckled with a true smile and enthusiasm, "Remember when I beat him? Took the blade clean away."

I reminded him gently, "He was holding back…"

"On magic, sure. But not the blade. After that… well, he knew I could handle the house whilst he was off with you two. I suppose I could see why he was so concerned," Carver said wistfully, cradling his chin in his gauntlets. I knew he was thinking about Father and Bethany's deaths.

I leaned my head against his shoulder briefly, knowing it was probably wrong but unable to resist the temptation of touching him, "Don't… they wouldn't want us wallowing over what we've lost."

His arm reached around my shoulders and squeezed lightly in affection, "I know. I don't think either of them got what they wanted from this life but it gave us the chance to live the life we want. For that, we should try harder. For that, I'm thankful."

Mother daydreamed, "Oh those days… all of us in that simple place, doing simple things. It hasn't been like that since Malcolm died, has it?" No, it hadn't. Everything changed once Father had died. Life made things difficult. Life made innocence wash away and what we could once enjoy would never be enough.

Then she straightened out of her dream, "Well, that's neither here nor there is it? We have to make the best of it… and thanks to him and you two, I will."

I laughed, teasing her, "Uh huh… So, when _is_ Quentin coming over?"

Carver looked at me, "Who is Quentin?"

"Mother's suitor," I announced as Mother blushed. Carver sniggered at her obvious discomfort as she muttered out, "In a few days."

There was laughter all around and it was almost like the good old days. Mother looked at me then at Carver, "Malcolm would be happy that the two of you aren't at each other's throats… not all the time anyway. He sacrificed so we would have a life, free to choose. Must have been a terrible burden… much like the burden you've assumed, I suppose." She looked at me with sympathy in her eyes, unknowingly revealing things to Carver though he didn't seem to pick up on it.

I quipped, "That's me… banging my head against the walls of tyranny and nobility." Carver laughed, thinking that I was referring to court rather than my royal status.

Mother shook her head with amusement and slight exasperation, "You know your Father was the same way, taming the shadows with questionable wit. Sometimes I think that's why you fit so seamlessly into our home after you were adopted."

Carver snickered and agreed, "Oh yeah, she's got the dry wit quite down pat."

Mother comforted me, "You've got so much of Malcolm. Blood daughter or not, maybe you've got that trait in you. That trait that makes you try so hard even when things seem impossible."

Carver began, "You know after all this… blood magic, leaving the Amell name… it's no wonder Father kept it secret." He looked at me, "Sometimes I can almost understand why you keep your secrets," then he rolled his eyes in irritation, "Not that I think it's a good idea or anything."

I glared into my hands, thoroughly unimpressed, "I _was_ going to talk to you about everything tonight… but _your_ Templars are waiting for you." I looked into his eyes and asked with some reluctance, "You can't stay tonight, can you? I've got a lot to say, it will take some time."

Carver cursed, "Damn it, no I can't." He grimaced at me, "You've got some bad timing, you know that?"

I shrugged, "Took a while to work things out. When can you come back?"

"In a few days. A week, tops. Meredith will want me to do a whole bunch of things before I can resume a more normal schedule."

I groaned, burying my face into my arms. Now that I wanted to tell him everything, life was blocking my path. I just wanted to shout it in his face but it wouldn't be right. How do you shout 'I'm the Lost Princess of Ferelden' to someone? Mother comforted, "It isn't like you don't have things to do, Hales. You've got at least three letters to read and reply to. They're from Ferelden and Starkhaven," she said with significance.

I looked at her incredulously, "Three letters? Wow. So many," I said sarcastically, "I'll get to those."

He rose from the table and lifted me by the elbows, "Come on, I need to go. Walk me to the door. I'll see you later, Mother."

Mother hollered a goodbye at our retreating backs.

In the living room where the Templars were pacing, Carver ordered, "To the Gallows. I'll follow in a moment." They trampled out of the door, metal clanking and feet stamping in a regular tempo, like marching men. I grinned in amusement, "Funny. I never see _you_ walk like that."

He grimaced as we strode out into the night, shutting the front door, "And you never will."

Though Kirkwall was city and not the rural mountains where we'd been, the skies were still clear, the moon still just as bright, just as round. We were bathed in pure moonlight. Carver's eyes were so dark, liquid midnight, shining with something akin to…_love?_

I stared at him in inquiry, watching him throw metal gauntlets on the pavement with practised ease and indifference. He smiled at my raised eyebrows and pulled me into his body, holding me for a while, arm at my waist, free hand tilting my chin up so he could stare into my eyes.

I found myself leaning into him, back arching backwards as I looked up into eyes that flickered towards my mouth. I heard the hum of slithering mana and lyrium, the rush of blood in my ears, felt my knees go weak against hi strength before my eyes closed and his lips were on mine, passionately wistful, ardently slow. His lips slanted against mine, tongue stroking softly against my mouth, a coax for my lips to part. I sighed into his mouth and his tongue found mine, a hazy fever searing my body that was warm, dreamy and utterly seductive. I needed him closer, arms around his neck, pulling him as close as I could.

I heard him groan, his chest-plate vibrating into me as he lifted his head to break the kiss. His eyes were full of need, a fire burning that couldn't be controlled and threatened to consume me whole. I wanted it, enticed him, "Stay…" I had given up. I wanted him. I wanted to be with him. I didn't want to fight it anymore, didn't want to resist. Here was the man of my dreams. Didn't I deserve to take my happiness with two hands?

He chuckled, half groaning in exasperation, "Of all the time to ask me to stay. Hales, you have bad timing."

I brushed my lips against him, this time teasing and sensual, finally sure of my decision, "You can't seriously be entertaining the thought of going to Meredith when I'm right here…" I murmured, "My bedroom is right upstairs… that as opposed to going across the nasty, cold water… don't you want to stay?" I reached into him for a moment, trying to show him my needs and aches that only he could sooth away.

He was grinning, I could feel it against my neck as he nuzzled the base, "Shit Hales, you're making it hard for me to go but what happened to maturity, hmm? Aren't you one for doing _the right thing _with all that crap about _responsibility_?"

I tutted, "Are you seriously using that against me?" I retorted, "What happened to your immaturity? Aren't you one for doing _whatever you want_? Come up… "

He cradled my face in his hands, moving backwards to see me before kissing me again, deep but quick. In the night, he whispered, "Remember that time I called your eyes the colour and size of big shit?"

I laughed, feeling more light-hearted than I had in years, "Of course. Mother grounded you, sent you to sleep without dinner."

"And you sneaked food for me in the middle of the night… remember when I asked you why you weren't upset with me? Do you remember what you said?" He asked.

My mind was foggy. I bit my lower lip and told him, "I remember patches of it. The twelve years old that you were… I remembered you kissing my cheek that night…"

He gently carded his fingers into my hair, tucking an errant strand behind my ears, "You said to me: 'I only need one person to think I'm beautiful. For now, it is Bethany. One day, it'll be a man. And I'll only ever need one.' Do you remember now?"

I nodded, remembering the feeling of wanting what I had felt in the heart that was changing from girl to woman, the wanting of a love like the one my parents shared, "I remember," I murmured into his palm.

There was reverence in his voice, "I've watched you grow up, did you know that? Watched you turn girlish, womanly, confident… watched you turn more and more graceful every year. Bethany was right… It just took me a little longer to realize… You eyes really do sink into a man's mind and bones." He smiled wistfully, so unlike the brash young man I used to know, "You really are so beautiful, Hales."

His words took my breath away. I hadn't expected his sudden romancing and I muttered out a surprised, "Oh…"

Battle-roughened fingertips traced my jaw, lips taking a path from my neck just to behind my ear before he inhaled deeply. "Carver…" I murmured out, almost embarrassed at how aching my voice came out.

"Soon, Hales." He linked our fingers together, "Not tonight but soon. In a week. I'll come up."

"Damn it, Carver!" I uttered out.

His laugh vibrated against my neck, "I have to be in the Gallows in half an hour. It takes ten minutes to get across the blasted water, giving me twenty minutes with you. If that's enough time for you then let's go upstairs now but I'll tell you right now it isn't enough time for me."

"What?" I asked him, unsure of what he was getting at.

"If you were any other woman, that's nineteen minutes more than I'd care to spend. For you, then I want at least the entire night… maybe the rest of our lives whilst I'm going for it," he nipped the base of my neck in affection.

"Carver, you aren't playing fair." I complained.

He laughed again, this time dark, "I'll make it up to you in a week's time, Hales. Keep in mind, you're not the only one who's aching to be touched." His words flamed my cheeks, "At least you've found release with me, felt the pressure of needing me wholly sated for a few moments. Me? I've been waiting too long and I've wanted you too much. But… one week won't kill me."

I groaned lightly, "And you are _still_ not playing fair."

His only reply was to cover my lips in a gentle kiss, pick up his gauntlets and promise, "See you in a week."

I had never felt like this before. Never. Nothing with Mikhail could compete. Every memory my old lover gave me was not even a mere shadow to the stirs of emotion that Carver inspired. When I closed the front door, I leaned against it, smiling dreamily. As I went upstairs towards my bedroom, Mother's amused holler barely dented my mood, "Don't forget to read your letters!"

I waltzed around my room like a young girl experiencing first love, dancing around and picking out a pretty dress for a week's time. Something sweet, something frothy, something… I laughed at myself, this was Carver! A man who had seen me covered in dirt! He wouldn't mind. I went towards the letters, trying to distract the nervous giggles that kept bubbling up. The first was from Sebastian.

"Hales,

I hope you are doing well. Alistair wrote me to let me know that Kirkwall required your aid. I hope that goes smoothly. I have much to write to you about but most of it is in another letter, on your desk, back in Ferelden. To make a long story a short one, I have found someone! She's a lovely woman, Lady Josephine and I think I'm starting to understand what love is really like. When she's around, I feel happy. When she isn't around, I feel distracted. It's insane. I can hear you in my head as I'm writing this. Something to the lines of 'Oh, how the mighty have fallen!' seems appropriate.

The nobles are starting to settle down, acclimating to me being their new ruler. All is well in Starkhaven. I hope to see you soon.

Sebastian"

The next was from Alistair.

"Hales,

How do you get embroiled in so much drama? I think Bringer of Drama and Trouble really seems to be a more fitting title. Forget Princess, no true Princess gets into such a big mess every other day of the week!

Things aren't going well in terms of Anora. The nobles are talking of unseating us but they have given no reasons as to why, or as to whom they wish to support. Yet. I've been receiving some anonymous letters, telling me that Anora is contacting Meredith through a Ferelden noble but the identity of that noble is currently unknown.

In any case, I'm coming to Kirkwall. I want to see what I can feel out and I miss my sister. Sebastian has been talking about visiting. I told him to come to Kirkwall. Expect us soon, sweetheart.

We'll speak more when I see you. Be careful, Hales. I don't like the sound of all this trouble. It seems like a wave coming from all sides.

Alistair"

It was like a double celebration, a triple one even. Alistair was coming! Sebastian was coming! Carver and I… we were getting somewhere, weren't we? I squealed out in happiness, running down the stairs two at a time to share my news with Mother. I told her, "Let's make it a quadruple celebration. Bring Quentin over!"

Four days after, during the late afternoon, I was dozing in the library, partially listening to Fenris read. Anders was teasing me, "You're barely listening!" He poured me a very small glass of red wine, knowing my general intolerance for alcohol, and sat back. We were relaxed and happy. No drama, no darkspawn, no attacks, no nobles. Everything was good.

There was knocking at our front door and I heard Bodahn answer, heard his answer turn shrill, "May I inquire as to who the two Messere's are?"'

Sensing trouble, I ran out with Fenris and Anders in tow. In the doorway stood two men, covered in heavy hooded robes, a full sun behind them. I narrowed my eyes at the silhouettes until one cried out in an impatient but hilarious tone, "Maker! I know it's been a while but surely you recognize your own brother!"

Alistair!

I ushered both of them in, knowing the other was Sebastian. Once they took the robes off, I launched myself at them. I squealed, throwing my arms around Alistair, squeezing him as tightly as I could. "Ow, ow, ow," he complained, "I bruise easily!" I ignored his protests and embraced Sebastian with the same enthusiasm, his brogue-coloured laugh sounding in my ears.

"I've missed you!" I cried out, "Both of you. Come, come… You must meet Mother!" I dragged them in as Mother watched me with much amusement.

I bounced on the balls of my feet, "Mother! Meet Alistair, the King of Ferelden, my half-brother! Alistair, meet Leandra Hawke, my Mother!"

He had bowed in courtly fashion and said with a grin, "My lady," and Sebastian had done much the same. I giggled as the men greeted each other with firm handshakes, manly grunts and other such noises that men just seemed compelled to make. Mother then turned to me, "Alright dear, you calm down. I'll see you at dinner."

I asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out to meet Quentin. We're coming for dinner so, don't start without us!" I giggled some more and she skipped out of the house.

Charade and Gamlen were slack-jawed when they met Alistair, the impact of who he really was sinking into them. Charade had blushed and stuttered, smiling like a young farmgirl who had never met a man in her life.

My cousin and uncle left me alone eventually, allowing me to drag all the men into the library. As Anders served wine, I asked my brother, "So… what's with the robes?"

Alistair shrugged, running a hand through his hair causing it to stick up in tufts. It was a two-tuft day, so generally speaking, he wasn't too stressed. "Didn't want Meredith knowing. Thought we'd sneak into," he proclaimed majestically, "The Champion of Kirkwall's home!"

Sebastian added, "We thought that a surprise visit might unsettle Meredith enough to loosen her tongue a little."

Anders scoffed, "She's got too big a sword up her ass. Nothing's going to loosen her tongue until that's removed." There was laughter all around.

I took a long look at Sebastian. He was wearing more Princely finery, armour incorporated subtly as opposed to his old Chantry set. There was something in his eyes that inspired loyalty, a spark of life and happiness, a true contentment that I had never seen before. I told him, "You look good. That Lady Josephine must be treating you well, huh?"

He smiled, distracted and wistful, "Yes… she is wonderful."

Anders teased, "Oh ho! Choir boy has fallen!" and I joined in, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Fenris was so amused that he laughed, throwing his head back. It was so nice to see them all enjoying their lives so. Alistair threw an arm around me and said, "So how is my Princess of Ferelden doing, huh? Tell us about the attacks."

Anders supplied with light-hearted sarcasm, "No no… that's not the interesting part. That was just some darkspawn, who was intelligent, who could talk to Dumat, who was an ancient Tevinter magister who defiled the Golden City, and tried to kill us with divine powers! No, don't ask about that! Pfft, that's not even interesting!" he mocked, "Ask her about _Carver…_" he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I blushed, "Oh, sweet Andraste!" Fenris made it worse, "I saw her with Carver outside her mansion a few nights back. They were kissing rather passionately."

As they jeered and teased, Alistair exclaimed, "About bloody time!"

I made violent waves of my hands to cut out the noise, "It isn't time yet! I just have a talk session scheduled with him. He still doesn't know about everyone. I'm planning on telling though."

Anders laughed and jeered, "Hear that, fellas? She said 'talk session', I wasn't aware that's what they were calling it, these days!"

There was all around laughter and a couple of hours of endless talking. Alistair spent some time talking about the nasty glares Anora kept giving him every time they were in the same room. He would pretend to shiver, cringe, cheering everyone into more laughter.

Then dinner came around and Mother hadn't returned. When Bodahn announced that dinner was ready, he said, "Your Mother hasn't arrived with her suitor yet. Should we wait?"

I frowned at that, she wasn't one to be home late. It was then that Gamlen said cheerfully, "I'm sure she'll be around soon. She was with her suitor, that Quentin fellow. Nice man, sent her white lilies this morning. They were walking around in Lowtown last I saw them but that was at least two hours ago."

White lilies… why was that so familiar? I shook my head, white lilies were common enough. It was Fernis who reminded me, "White lilies? There is a killer in Kirkwall who sends his victims white lilies."

I froze. I remembered the town criers in Lowtown, mentioning that at one point. I tried to deny him, "Surely… no… They've been seeing each other for a while. He's had all the time to…" My breath stopped short, fear struck me… what if he had just been buying his time? The blood rushed from my face.

Anders offered, "I'll go speak with Aveline, tell her to keep an eye out. The rest of you go out and search for her."

Bodahn nodded, "Sandal and I will stay here and watch for your Mother," his tone hopeful.

I gestured to Gamlen, "Where was the last place you saw her?"

He took us there, Alistair, Sebastian, Fenris and me. We didn't need to go far. Near the bridge towards Hightown, there were pools of blood, thick, wet and very much fresh. And in the centre of that pool was an earring that I recognized. Mother's earring, the ones that Father had bought her when they first left Kirkwall. I stumbled backwards, stepping upon Sebastian's foot as he caught my weight. A maelstrom of fear and worry overwhelmed me. I repeated, "We need to find her. We need to find her."

Every few yards there was a pool of blood. My heart continued to sink. How much blood could one lose before they died? Please Maker, protect my Mother, I begged. I could hear Sebastian praying and Alistair kept comforting me, "We'll find her, Hales. We'll find her."

The blood led to a Foundry where the stenches of rotten flesh met my nostrils. There was something acrid and acidic in the air, something altogether wrong. Metal and copper stung my nose and…

There were bodies of women_ everywhere._

A woman without fingers. A woman without hands, fingers chopped off and flung to the side. Mother… where was Mother, I asked myself. Another woman – her feet gone. A very young girl, her legs taken.

The revulsion, the nausea that threatened to overwhelm me, the fear of never finding my Mother, I wasn't sure how I even managed to move my feet. What was happening?

We found a shrine. A portrait up the top. It was a painting of _Mother_. It was dedicated to Mother of all people. So Quentin was crazy about Mother, at the very least. Would he hurt her? There were books strewn everywhere, letters about magic and I knew with a sinking feeling that this had something to do with blood magic. Deliriously, I wondered if I could ever go a week without meeting a blood mage.

Alistair pointed to it, "Isn't that your Mother? Is it a shrine to a sister? A wife, maybe?"

It was that sentence that made it all click. A shrine to a wife. One that wasn't my Mother. One that shared Mother's face. The realization made me gag, I bent forward to vomit but nothing came out aside from the deep heaving of my chest and gut.

I could barely utter the words out, "He… he's after her face." Fenris stated the obvious, "Prepare for the worst."

But nothing could prepare me for what I was about to witness.

We found Quentin and I knew why Mother had been attracted. He was a mage with a kindly, old face. It reminded her of Father.

He was nothing like Father though. Father never resorted to blood magic for trivial means, his face had stronger lines, a stubborn chin and his voice was not weak or snivelling.

I accused, "Where is my Mother?"

He had grinned, a maniacal smile that made Alistair tell me, "Easy, Hales… Be careful."

"I was wondering when you'd show," Quentin said, his voice held no note of command, "Leandra was so sure you'd come for her."

My magic pulsed around me and I threw him against the wall as I shouted, "Where is she?"

He cackled as he stood up, "You will never understand my purpose. Your Mother was chosen because she was special…and now, she is part of something…" he deliberated on a word, "_greater_."

"Spare me the demented rambling! Where is my Mother?" I said again.

"She is here," his fingers pointing to the back of a chair, "She is waiting for you…" I ran to the chair, spinning around it to see her and found myself stumbling backwards in horror. Her face… her neck…

I could hear his voice ringing in my ears, "I have done the impossible! I have touched the face of the Maker! And lived…", but all I could see was Mother… She was… dead… but the body was not hers. She was _stitched_ together.

He had taken her head, cut clean through her neck and stitched it to another woman's torso. There were stitch marks all over. Her fingers, her legs, her wrists… she was a body pieced together by another's body parts. I could barely feel fear and nausea, covered by the shock that consumed me. Her eyes were glazed over, shades of white making them foggy and she was dressed in a nightmarish version of a wedding dressed, drops of blood marring the creamy surface.

I felt Alistair grip my shoulders tightly, trying to keep me grounded maybe. Quentin came towards me, "Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is? Love. I pieced her together from memory."

The gravity of the situation hadn't impacted. This was a dream, a nightmare, surely not real. I repeated to myself, wake up. Wake up. Wake up. It is just a nightmare. She's fine! He listed, "Her eyes, her skin, her delicate figure." He sighed out in triumph, "And at last… her face," he said as his fingers gently tilted Mother's face upwards, "I've searched far and wide to find you again, beloved!" Her eyes darted to mine. She was still alive but her skin had turned grey already. Her eyes were no longer blue but foggy with death. Still, they pled to me, asking me to save her. As Quentin lifted his hands in the air, shouting out, "And no force on this world shall ever part us," I screamed to Sebastian, "Kill him!"

Arrows flung down, pinning Quentin against the wall. I strained my powers, absorbing all the mana from him. I ripped it out of his body, a blue stream so violently pushing and pulling against his chest that his ribs exploded outwards, a sickening crunch of bone and a wave of blood splattered over the floor. I was deaf to his yells of pain.

With his chest cavity open, I could still see his heart beating and violence was all I knew. In three large strides, I was before him, sinking my hand straight deep into chest, his blood flushing over my hand, heart still managing to beat.

I squeezed the organ, feeling the texture of slimy flesh give way as my fingers dug through. I sent his magic back into him, crushing his organ but keeping him alive for as long as I could, holding him in pain. His blue eyes flickered in and out, rolling back into his head much of the time.

He screamed, piercing and loud. He wailed, sharp and intense. He cried out, insistent and forceful.

Then he pleaded, begged me to end his life and still all the magic I had stolen from him I continually fed, refusing to cave. A monster was in my head, rampaging through my heart and he would suffer until I was ready for him to die.

And when, finally, I pulled his heart out, his eyes faded, his maniacal gleam left him and all that remained was a light whimper and his still warm heart dying in my hand.

There were footsteps behind me, a weakly whispered, "Hales…"

I turned around and found Mother almost next to me, collapsing on her knees. I caught her, staining her clothes with Quentin's blood as I kneeled upon the floor so she could rest her head on my lap. She almost smiled, "I knew you would come…"

She couldn't be dying. She couldn't die. I tried to joke, "You know me, always here to save the day." Tears blurred out my vision and I tried to control the sobs that were working their way through my body.

"Shh, don't fret, darling. That man would have kept me trapped in here…" she whispered, staring into my eyes, "Now, I'm free. I get to see Bethany again… and your Father… but you'll be here alone."

I told her, "I can keep you alive… I can… Mother please… just", my voice cracked as I begged. Please. Please. Please. Don't die! Maker… let this all be an awful dream. Anytime soon, I begged, I would wake up and I would still hear her nagging me to answer letters or something.

She managed a small smile, "What life would I be living? This half-life…"

I blamed myself, unable to do much else, "I should have watched over you more closely. I should have _been_ here! I'm sorry, Mother… I'm so sorry." I cried, tears were pouring down my face. I just couldn't keep them in.

"My little girl has become so strong," she said with a weakening throaty voice, "I love you… You've always made me so proud." Then as an afterthought she added, "Tell Carver I love him and that he'll always have my support, too." Then it was over. She just closed her eyes and left me.

The monster within screamed, bellowed and launched to the forefront of my mind.

I was rage incarnate, fire and ice in equal measure threw themselves at the walls, exploding chairs and tables around me. Lightening filled the room, violently shooting themselves from my body and into the ceiling, causing part of the structure to weaken. I could feel my body shivering against the magic, could hear Fenris shouting in my ear to stop, that I would kill myself if I didn't. I refused to stop. It wasn't until Alistair had enough, using his Templar Cleansing to take my magic from me that I could no longer cast. He took my shoulder in his hands and shook me, "Killing yourself won't bring her back, Hales!" he shouted, worried and part crying.

Like a child again, I curled into his chest, taking comfort as his tears mingled with mine. Fenris uttered with as much gentleness as he could muster, "Take her home, Alistair. Sebastian and I will handle the rest." Alistair carried me home, my face buried in his neck all the way.

At the estate, Anders horrified voice cried out, "What's wrong with her? What happened?" My Mabari sensed trouble and he came trotting to me, whining out. I hugged Widge's enormous head to me, burying my face behind his ear as I cried out, "Mother's gone… she's dead." Widge howled out in pain, echoing my heartache. Sebastian and Fenris followed soon after with Mother's body.

Gamlen rushed to me, "Did you find her?" he charged down the stairs towards us. No one answered but it was hardly necessary. Gamlen could see the body for himself. Still, I said quietly, "I'm sorry, Uncle. She's gone…"

He choked out in tears, "I can't believe she's gone… why Leandra? Why? She was- Oh Maker…"

"I was too late… too late… " I cried out, Alistair holding me tighter to keep me grounded.

Gamlen shouted, "So you're to blame! If you had been quicker or stronger, you could have… She would… No…" he relented, "You couldn't have known. Charade and I hadn't known… Why? Why her?"

I didn't blame him. He was just upset. This wasn't his fault… I comforted, "Mother's gone… nothing else matters, Uncle. Knowing won't ease the pain." Would knowing how she died bring him peace? No, knowing would only make him hate.

He sobbed in his own hands, "No, it won't. It will always seem senseless." Then his voice was wrathful, "Where's the one who did this to her? Did you find him?"

My voice was instilled with hate, the last echoes of a monster dredging up to the surface, "He's dead."

Fenris elaborated, "She killed him by tearing apart his chest cavity and squeezing his heart in her hands until the life was crushed from him."

"Good! It won't bring Leandra back but I'll take comfort in knowing that." Gamlen said simply. His tone became gentle, "You've had a long day, so I'll go to the Gallows to talk to Carver. He'll need to know about this. I'll be home soon. You take care, my dear."

Charade took her turn to embrace me, she sobbed into my shoulder, "Auntie Leandra… oh… this is awful… Why? She was such a good person…"

My tears had stopped. I didn't know how to cry. Mother was gone. There was little I could do to bring her back. I had killed Quentin, painfully and cruelly. Not even that had brought her back. Nothing brought her back. Charade went to sleep eventually, too emotionally exhausted to stay up. I didn't want to sleep. Widge put his gigantic head in my lap, upset for the loss. Anders and Fenris sat in one corner of the library, leaning and dozing against one another, worried but too exhausted to offer anything more than their presence. Sebastian took to a chair, staying quiet, knowing that his words of the Maker would do little to ease my pain. Alistair sat by me, trying to comfort me, "She was your Mother, a most wonderful woman. The best of her will always be within you. She may be with the Maker but she will always be your family."

Eventually, they all fell asleep.

Hours later, I heard angry voices coming from the doorway. Heavy clanking of amour and Gamlen's, "Don't you dare upset her any further!" made it obvious that Carver had come home. I exited the library, closing the door behind me, waiting for the inevitable emotional explosion. I felt wholly numb.

When he saw me in the main foyer, Carver had shouted, "You!"

I hushed him, gesturing him into the rooms on the other end of the estate, away from sleeping ears. It was like the night was no different to any other one. Gamlen had thrown his arms in the air in frustration and I told him, "Get some sleep, Uncle. I can handle him."

_Carver_

I didn't want to even look at her. Seeing her red-rimmed eyes would have smothered my anger. I pulled away my gauntlets, wanting to strangle her with my bare hands. When Gamlen left, Hales closed the door and I shoved her hard against the wall, "You told _Gamlen_ to tell me that Mother died? _Gamlen_? You couldn't come yourself? Too good to speak to a Templar are you, oh great _Champion of Kirkwall!_" I shouted in her face.

She closed her eyes and took the abuse. I continually yelled scathingly, "Fucking Gamlen didn't even know how she fucking died! I _deserved_ to know."

Mother was dead! Dead! And Gamlen couldn't even tell me how! I wanted to break something, break her maybe. Just anything!

Her tone was exhausted, sad and shattered, "He… he was trying to piece together his wife. A necromancer… blood magic. Mother had his wife's face… she…" I felt each word hit me one by one. Each word harder than the last. I wrenched myself from her.

Dead. Mother was dead. A blood mage. Blood magic. The same face.

Blood magic. The same face.

She sobbed out, "Quentin cut her head off and stitched… he stitched it to other body parts…"

Quentin. I felt sick and I threw the blame at her feet, not knowing what else was left for me to do, "Where were you?" I shouted, each word angrier and louder than the last, "Where were you? Why didn't you protect her?"

This was _her_ fault! Why did she know that Quentin was a blood mage? Why did I know – No! Hales should have known!

Hales was weak as she slid down the wall, incoherent streams of words flowing out. The only things I made out was, "I tried… I tried…"

And seeing her like that, I couldn't help but deflate.

I was going to go to her, to hold her, to apologize but the door slammed open. I jumped back just in time. Four men strode in. Anders, Fenris and two men I didn't recognize. The man with brown hair cried out, "What's going on in here?"

He took one look at Hales, knelt to the floor to gather her into his arms and glared at me, "You must be _Carver_, I take it?" he said with a slight protective sneer.

I demanded, "Who are you?"

Fenris snarled at me, "You are looking at royalty, whelp. Show some respect." He gestured to the red-haired man, "Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven," then to the man holding Hales, "King Alistair of Ferelden."

Alistair stood up, meeting me toe-to-toe, Templar to Templar. I could sense it. He almost snarled, "I want you to leave."

I shouted, "This is _my _house, too!"

He was equally as loud, "And this is _my_ sister! I won't have you upsetting her anymore!"

The words were like a huge sledgehammer rapping me in the stomach. I doubled over, suddenly understanding everything all too quickly. It was like a click, all the information rushing into place, all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly shifting together for the full image. I was stuttering, shocked, "Sis- sister." I asked her weakly, "You're the Lost Princess?"

Hales nodded weakly, trying to explain, "I wanted to tell you the other night… but…"

I interrupted her, betrayal and hurt fuelling the anger I had felt. I attacked savagely, "So this is what you've been doing in Ferelden? Playing Princess and," I snarled, "playing some nobleman's mistress" I yanked at her arm, where the ruby covered bracelet taunted me, "when Mother should have been protected?" Alistair pushed me aside, sending me crashing onto the floor.

Hales was on her feet in a second, shouting all of her rage at me, "And where were you? You were too busy playing Templar in the Gallows to even come home for dinner!" She screamed until the house shook, "You decided to prove something to the world because you wanted to play the second-child act! Where were you when Mother was with Quentin? Where were you?" she kept shouting, "I had Gamlen and Charade, Bodahn and Sandal looking after Mother! What did you do?"

She was out of breath, stumbling about weakly. Then her voice became chilled, "Don't you dare accuse me of not being here. I did all that I could aside from chaperone her meetings. You? You never did a Maker damned thing."

It was something I had wanted to deny all along, that I hadn't been there for Mother, even less than Hales. I hated that she was right, hated the truth. Alistair sneered at me, "The Princess is mistress to no one. I gave her that jewellery." That made me feel worse, made me hate myself. I needed to hurt something, needed to hurt her for deflecting the hurt to me.

As I left, I said cruelly, twisting the knives into her further, "One man, that's all you'll ever need, huh? Looks like many more than one, Hales."

I heard Fenris snarl. Anders cursed foully. Sebastian asked the Maker to ease her pain. Alistair hushed her soothingly. Most of all, I heard her sobs of pain and heartache as I walked out the door.

I knew what I had done. I had cut her down the one time she had finally opened herself up to me.

I wanted to kill myself for it.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey everyone, it's been almost two weeks since my last post! I was hoping to make it sooner than that but my editor was unwell and she's only just starting to feel better. Thank you Mistress Vo for getting this done despite the bad time! She told me that this chapter made her cry. What about the rest of my readers?

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	15. Secret Princess

**Chapter 15 – Secret Princess**

_Carver_

I hated what I had done. I hated what I had said. I hated my impulsive words.

She had needed me and I had pushed her away.

The funeral was three days later, outside the Chantry gardens. Mother's remains had been respectfully placed into a coffin. I had seen the body for myself, the head detached from the rest of the body, cruel stitching and holes the size of small needles still exposed at the neck. Seeing it made me want to turn around and puke. The thought of someone chopping my head off and stitching it up to another body part…I wasn't sure what Hales had faced but I wished that I had been there for her, rather than yelled words that cut her deeply.

Hales, Hales, Hales, what have I done to you now?

The guilt was ramming through me, the grief of Mother's dead hammering right into my body and this time, my sweetheart wasn't beside me to ease the screwing pain into dull aches. I thought back to what it was like when Father died, when my pretty chit had curled into my arms to take the heartache away and fill the desolation with sweetness. Oh Hales, what have I done to you, to us?

There was a long procession. Many nobles, guards, civilians and Templars paid tribute. Most didn't know her but she was the adopted Mother of the Champion of Kirkwall, I suppose such respects went without saying. Hales was in black, an ugly dress that she was never meant to wear, a thin veil over her face. I could see the tears, her blotchy eyes despite her hiding away behind the veil.

This wasn't how it was meant to be and I yearned to stay beside her. When I began to fidget however, Knight-Commander Meredith was severe. She stood beside me, unwilling to allow me to join the proceedings. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. I should have had the chance to comfort my family.

She said, "I have already allowed you to attend the funeral but you must always remember that your loyalty now lies above and beyond family. You are part of the Order and you will stand with us, Knight-Corporal."

How I hated that title. What I wouldn't give to turn back time and refuse the Templar recruiter. What I wouldn't give to stay at home, confront Hales about her adoption and simply be with her again. What I wouldn't give to take back the horrid words I said.

Regret tasted like coals and smoke, burning my mouth and constricting my throat.

I hated how I had to stand to the side. I was supposed to be carrying the coffin as well, not watching Alistair and Sebastian lead Fenris and Anders as they heaved the wooden coffin. Mother was gone… there was nothing that could bring her back. Why hadn't I spent more time with Mother? Why hadn't I asked about her suitor?

I sighed, keeping the tears within, trying to take comfort in knowing that Mother was with the Maker now, with Father and Bethany. I wanted to cry out, I wanted to bury my face into a pillow and scream until the hurt left me. I needed… I sighed, I needed Hales.

The words she had once said to me reverberated in my mind. Repetitively.

_Why is it that Father's gone and yet the pain eases when you're here? Why is it that the whole world is falling apart and all that rings in my mind, day in and day out, is your name? Why? Why? Why does everything end up revolving around you now?_

So many years had passed since Father's death and yet… we were still right where we began.

Why was it that Mother was gone but even seeing Hales, tired and miserable as she was, helped ease my pain? Why was it that every time something happened and the world shook apart, my life always narrowed down to Hales? Why was it that in every waking moment, she was in my head, running around until everything in my life revolved around her?

Lost in my thoughts, I forgot Meredith and her screeching, reproving voice. It was not until her elbow dug sharply against the mail of my armour that I realized she had spoken. I tried to go through the words from the deeper recesses of my mind.

She was astounded about the royalty standing in the crowd. She hissed poisonously, "I was not told of this! Their arrival was not announced!" She seemed ruffled and rounded on me, "Did you know of this? Did the Champion tell you anything?" she demanded.

My face was purely impassive and I lied, just in case, "She never mentioned this."

Grand Cleric Elthina had some words of wisdom to impart though I tuned her out. My Mother was dead. No words of the Maker could bring me comfort. Out of my family, Hales was all I had left. All that remained…

And it was in the procession, as Mother was lowered into the Amell plot, that I realized something.

When Hales once told me, "If you need a woman beneath you to make you feel like a man, then you are no man at all", I hadn't thought much about it. Being a man meant supporting the woman one loved. Being a man was no emotion, it was a way to be and it came with a price. Had I ever understood what being a man truly entailed? No, I had not.

She was right. She was always right. I always had something to prove when 'worthwhile' had been in front of me, right under my nose all along. I became a Templar to protect Hales, thinking that was 'worthwhile'. It wasn't. I would have better protected Hales, my Mother, everyone in my family if I had been _there_.

I had taken the easy way out, not the right one.

I hadn't protected Mother… but I had a second chance to protect Hales, shouldn't I take that with both hands? But how? The Princess would soon move to Ferelden. I needed an opportunity…

Meredith's severe expression and words broke through my thoughts, "I wasn't aware that the Champion was so close to royalty in both Ferelden and Starkhaven."

I made an impartial noise. She hissed at me, "You must know something! Tell me what you know!" I frowned, why was she so adamant? She seemed…almost livid.

I told her with boredom in my voice, "I've been in the Templar Order these few years. She has said nothing to me. My Mother mentioned that she was in Ferelden for a time but I doubt even she knew the details. Hales keeps much to her chest."

The Knight-Commander growled at the back of her throat, "A mage! And a politician. A secret-keeper. She will be trouble. I know it. I can _feel _it."

I asked her curiously, "Why does it matter? She's the Champion of Kirkwall."

Her angry eyes rounded on me, her tone frosty and acerbic, "Do not be naïve, Ser Carver! She is a mage! An unrestricted mage. Family or no, you will recognize the danger that she is. Champion or no, she may ruin the support I have gained for my rul- she could ruin us all!" Meredith had slipped and amended. In her anger, she had said 'for my' something… something that sounded like 'ruling'.

I tried to placate, "Do not worry. She is one person, what can she do?" She could do a lot, I thought to myself, but in the interests of drawing out information from Meredith, little white lies must be told.

"She is a variable, a chess piece upon the board that could be my downfall. Our downfall. She has power, that one, do not underestimate her." Meredith warned me, "We must find out more from her. We will speak to her after the procession and to ensure she is...stable… we will keep a Templar with her. Always."

Meredith had her own agenda. What was it though? I asked her, "Are you afraid of war?"

She snarled, "I am _not_ afraid of anything, Ser Carver and you have _no right_ to question me," she frowned, her eyes turning worried, "but… Ferelden has a new female player in their political arena… made countless changes…given freedom to mages. She may be the one, some of the descriptions are similar to her. Maker, I need to get closer."

Just once, it would have been nice to see Meredith care about something _other_ than mages. But no, it always came back down to free mages. I shouldn't have been surprised given the fact that she was a Templar.

"Closer?" I questioned.

"Ser Carver, there is a saying that you should look into. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," she said with disdain and frost.

"So she is an enemy now?" I asked her, catching her politically compromising words. She didn't reply but her glower answered my question.

Hales was in trouble. I needed to stay close to her. I needed an opportunity. Would Meredith let me be the Templar staying at Hales' side even in Ferelden? What would please Meredith enough to give me that role?

Some nasty words, no doubt. Something to show how I despised magic, to show my disdain for blood magic and the potential risk of Hales becoming a blood mage. I needed to show Meredith my need to see blood magic everywhere like the big crazy she was.

It seemed like a good plan.

When the procession was over, Hales stood by the gates of the Chantry gardens, receiving condolences, sympathy and kind words. She met them all gracefully, politely and sincerely; no one could doubt that she would rather be anywhere but here. Her friends and family stood resolutely behind her, giving her the support she so needed and craved. I saw Charade bravely keeping her tears in, holding onto Hales' hand with her own. When the nobles left, Hales turned into her brother, her _real _brother, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. I saw Isabela rub her back gently, hushing words of comfort, "Your Mother loved you… that's all you need to remember." Hales nodded, hugged her and spoke quiet words. I couldn't hear anything. Many of them nodded in agreement to whatever she said.

Meredith gestured for me and a small complement of Templar comrades to the group. She interrupted their conversation, "Champion! A moment of your time, if you please."

Everyone's expressions were tense, instantly stiffening up in alertness. Hales too had squared her shoulders. Though evidently grieving, she was the epitome of regal command. I had to wonder why I never noticed it before. I always took it for granted, took her for granted. What a fool I had been.

Then again, I mused, I had once thought of her as a beautiful princess lowering the gates against me. The image dredged up in my mind, making my heart clench. _Don't push me away, Hales. I know I deserve it but don't push me away._ _I'm just a Templar, not a King, but I love you._

Her chocolate eyes were pools of misery yet she had strength as she spoke, "Of course, Knight-Commander. What can I do for you?"

Meredith said curtly though politely, "I wished to offer my condolences. Your Mother's death was unfortunate and by the hands of a blood mage no less. I hope you now understand my cause."

Hales inclined her head with politeness, "I understand. Thank you."

The Knight-Commander turned to Alistair and Sebastian, "Your Highnesses, I must admit my surprise that you are here today. We had no news of your arrival and I find your methods of communication most… unique," she sneered the last word out.

Hales looked towards her brother and after a long measured look, Alistair replied, "My arrival was unexpected. I had no time to announce the news. Hales had problems here and Sebastian and I decided to visit her, to ensure her safety."

Sebastian supplied, "I was once a Brother in the Chantry and very good friends with the Champion. Seeing as she was a main catalyst for the treaty that was recently signed between Ferelden and Starkhaven, when Alistair sent news that she was in trouble, I came to help."

Meredith narrowed her eyes at Hales, "You are familiar with King Alistair, Champion?"

Hales stared at her brother with a slightly raised shoulder, appearing almost coy as she slid her hand into the crook of his arm, a symbolic meaning of intimacy. I narrowed my eyes at her. After all these years, I knew Hales enough to know that her actions were forced and unnatural. She was trying to prove a point. When her voice became pretentious and throaty, "Yes… we are… _close_," flashing the exquisite ring and bracelet on her right wrist, I knew she was trying to mislead Meredith.

Alistair held the gaze with her for a few more seconds than normal. What Meredith saw was a romantic relationship, what Hales' companions saw was an act. This had been staged, planned in advance. Then he turned back to Meredith and told her, "I am taking her back to Ferelden. She'll need time to recover and," he glanced towards Hales with sympathetic eyes, warm and loving, "she needs me. I am afforded no other option given the fact that I cannot be in two places at once."

Meredith's jaw dropped, "This is most unexpected! She is a Champion of Kirkwall and a mage! She cannot simply-"

Hales interrupted, "My being a mage has no consequences to you. If I am in Ferelden, I will follow whatever Ferelden rules are required of me. That is irrelevant. As to my being Champion, I will visit my family intermittently. Both my cousin and Uncle will be staying in the Hawke Estate and both will frequent court regularly."

Sebastian offered, "I was going to suggest a treaty between Starkhaven, Ferelden and Kirkwall. Seeing as the Champion of Kirkwall often frequents all three courts, it might prove wise to discuss an alliance?"

The Knight-Commander spluttered, taken aback by the sudden request. Hales intervened, "Sebastian, that's a little early. Kirkwall has no Viscount and Meredith cannot rule for long, can you?" she turned innocent on Meredith.

It was enough to incense the Knight-Commander and she snarled, "No! Your policies for the mages have grown lax and I find your individual systems incompetent. Furthermore, mages have fled Kirkwall for Starkhaven and Ferelden and you have chosen to protect them as if it is your right to do so!"

Sebastian stepped forward, his tone severe, "Starkhaven will always accept mages that turn themselves in. I see no problem here."

"Mages who escape their rightful place should be executed! They are apostates! You are sheltering known fugitives," her finger pointed rudely to Hales, "She has earned clemency, much to my sufferance. The mages? They have done so such thing. Your actions would never have amounted to an alliance!" Meredith continued to rush on, "Maybe when Ferelden next chooses a Queen –" she stopped herself and amended, whilst Hales' eyes gleamed, "or a King, it will be one that takes his duty to the Maker seriously!"

"Darling," Hales began, her lips in a moue at Alistair, "I do believe that is a no. Very well, Knight-Commander. In any case, I should let you know that I intend on leaving for Ferelden very soon and with my friends. Although," she turned to Aveline, "Guard-Captain Aveline will still be here to serve Kirkwall."

Aveline had tried to comfort her, "Well, at least you know that Charade and Gamlen will be looked after."

There was suspicion in Meredith's eyes, "How convenient that the one who has access to Kirkwaller secrets will still be present. I must ask Champion, what is it that you intend?"

Her answering smile was icy, cold steel ready to inflict a fatal blow, "You're suspicions are so easily aroused, Meredith. I intend on living my life. After all, I was Ferelden once. It was my home. Why wouldn't I want to go home?"

"Then you will not object to being guarded," said Meredith with triumph in her voice, "Any ambassador would be afforded such when he or she travels to a foreign land. A Templar to guard you, to keep you safe _and_ to watch your actions carefully," she said with a cruel tone.

This was my chance! I could protect Hales, keep her secrets safe and send misleading information back to Meredith! I thanked the Maker and quickly volunteered, "I would like to offer myself up for this task."

My superior stared at me with narrowed, icy eyes. I remained impassive through her scrutiny, "And why would you do that?"

I needed to say something awful. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, I thought. Forgive me, Hales. I was indifferent, calmly gesturing, "The Champion is family. There can be no indignation on her part for my presence and more importantly, she would not dare to harm me. The Champion could probably kill any ordinary Templar with a clean conscience, one Templar is also easily defeated. She wouldn't dare to end her remaining family." I sneered out, each word like a deathly blow upon Hales, "She doesn't have the spine to kill off the family she owes everything to."

Hales hadn't looked at me at all during the entire conversation but her eyes zeroed in upon me. I nearly swallowed in fear. Her eyes were like hard glints of jagged rock, capable of killing me without thought. I wasn't sure about what I had said. She could have the spine, heart, nerve, whatever, to kill me off. I had to take the chance.

Meredith interrogated me, "You will be able to keep impartial, cast aside personal feelings and stay loyal to the Order, Ser Carver?"

I nodded, keeping strong resolve and conviction on my face, "Of course, Knight-Commander. You can rely upon me to send reports regularly and to keep a close eye upon any noteworthy activity. Adopted or no, the Champion's Mother has died due to blood magic, I would rather no…" I smiled mockingly, "instabilities occur such that she resorts to other types of harmful magic."

There were hisses of discontent amongst the group but Meredith bought my act, she thought I hated and blamed Hales for Mother's death. I didn't anymore. She nodded, "Ser Carver, I suggest you go pack your belongings and take your leave. Dismissed."

I saluted her smartly, clicking the heels of my armour together as Meredith left. She deserved it, I mused, she was giving me the opportunity to be with Hales again. I should send her flowers, I thought. Hateful looks were thrown at me but I ignored it. Widge growled at me but I shot him a warning glance and the Mabari ceased. I knew what I was doing and the knowledge of my own private agenda thrummed right through my body.

Casually, I asked them, "So when are we leaving?"

No one was listening to me. They had all grouped together, whispering amongst themselves. Hales embraced Sebastian tightly, asking him with sweetness in her voice, "You need to go home now, yes?"

Sebastian sighed, wrapping his arms around her, "Yes I do, Hales. I must look after Starkhaven. It is strong but not as strong as I would like. My ship is already waiting for me. I need to-"

She smiled, "Go," she interrupted, "I understand. I will send news regularly and we will communicate through the mirrors once I return to Ferelden. It is currently in my bedroom!"

He promised her, "I will help you whenever you need it. Speak with me and I will come for you." He kissed the back of her hand, "When all this is over, you must visit me in Starkhaven," before leaving.

The group watched him go before turning back into whispers. Gamlen and Charade each embraced Hales, whispering words of comfort in her ear. Hales turned to Aveline, "You will look after my family?"

"Of course, Hawke. Your family is my family," she said with understanding.

Hales sighed in relief before asking, "Will you come to Ferelden some time?"

Aveline managed a chuckle, "Just try and keep me away. Though," she added with an admonishing look, "you must visit Kirkwall often, too."

She and Donnic left with Charade and Gamlen. I got the feeling that we were leaving for Ferelden very soon. Isabela quipped, "The Siren's Call Two is prepped and ready. We can leave for Ferelden any time." She winked at Alistair, "Thanks for helping me steal, I mean, obtain it."

Alistair smiled, "Anything for an old friend."

Varric raised an eyebrow, "Rivaini took down the Ferelden King? Who is telling this story?"

Hales groaned, "Oh gross. That better not have happened."

Her brother shook his head, "No. She taught Elissa how to be a duellist though, the same skills Elissa taught you."

She managed a small smile, "Good to know. The rest of you, go pack the rest of your belongings or wait on the ship. I need to meet with someone," she turned to her brother, "Alistair… we'll talk about things," she gave a meaningful nod of her head towards me, "later."

Being ignored was becoming a little irritating and so, I interrupted, "Alright, I get it. You're upset but I haven't told Meredith anything. If I really meant badly, I would have by now, don't you think?" I gave her a 'how dumb could you be' look.

Hales spared me a glance, her voice cool as winter, "I suggest you pack, Templar. If I arrive on board Isabela's ship and you are not present, we will leave without you. I'm sure you'd love to explain to Meredith exactly how you managed to lose your potential _blood mage_ one hour into your task."

I gritted my teeth and left. I'd pay her back for her _Templar_ comment later. Aggravation tore through me and I thought to myself, I'll show her what this Templar was made of later.

As I packed, I yanked at my clothes without forgiveness, clinging onto my mix of need, ache, love and aggravation. I was going to kiss her until she saw stars, love her until she couldn't leave, hold her until she couldn't deny the two of us. That seemed like a good idea, in the worst possible way.

The Siren's Call Two was docked by the pier, a handsome ship made of expensive materials. It was better than most of Kirkwall's fleet! The wood had been darkened, glazed and covered in a light cover of silver, protecting it from water damage. The masts were made of a similar material, shining silver under the sun. As I strode on the plank, Anders and Fenris stood by the ship's entry. They both glared at me. When I passed them and stood on the deck, everyone was leaning on various walls, sitting down comfortably, all of them staring at me with irritation in their eyes.

Isabela was the only one who offered me some friendliness, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pressing her breasts against my upper arms, "So! Carver, looking forward to following Hales around, sniffing after her like a lost puppy dog again?"

I threw her off, sulkily claiming, "You lot can think whatever you like. I didn't come here to cause her trouble. Where is she?"

Fenris leaned against the walls of the ship, surveying me, "You say one thing and turn around and do something else. You say you don't want to cause her trouble but you've been hurting her, blaming her and calling her a _blood mage_ of all things! You told her that you were attracted to her but you never stayed when she needed you, you went off and joined the Templars in–"

I snarled at him, "I might have been an idiot that night but don't you dare to presume my feelings and my reasons for joining the Templars!"

Anders snorted at me, "You were just sore she didn't take you into the Deep Roads and you're just sore that she's a Princess so you're trying to hurt her by calling her a blood mage. You're still a brat, Carver so grow up!"

"Well, we do call him Junior," hollered Varric as Merrill looked about at all of us, not sensing the underlying tension.

I dropped my belongings on the deck floor, crossing my arms over my chest, "Well, isn't this sweet?" I told them all, "You're all going to throw the line of 'do you understand what you put her through?' to me." I laughed mockingly, chilling and cold from the emotional exhaustion that I felt, "Well, while all of you were busy coddling her and worrying about collateral damage, I played the bad guy, I made the hard decisions and in the end, I'm going to end up keeping her safe."

Alistair called out from the helm above me, "So you were only acting for the good of Hales, is that it?"

I shook my head, "Never said that. I've got my own agenda here as well, I'm not too proud to admit that."

He stepped down the stairs from the helm, coming toe to toe with me, "So what exactly are you trying to say?"

I smirked, "What did you think would happen if another Templar was on the job, huh? Either the Templar found out ahead of time that Hales was the Lost Princess or she might end up killing him, landing her in trouble. I don't know what you lot have planned," I shrugged, "and honestly, I don't think my role matters. I'll send news of whatever you're alright with Meredith knowing and that's my job done."

Alistair was regarding me with a new light in his eyes, "So, you planned on double-checking with us and potentially misleading Meredith?"

"Sure," I said casually, "Though why I'm really here is because Hales needs me. She's always needed me and she'll always need me," then I confessed to him because I knew he could be trusted, "Just as I need her," my tone then tightened, "So don't think for a minute," I hissed in his face, "Not even for a second that you're the only one who cares for her. I'll protect her just as well as you can and I _will keep her safe_."

Alistair smiled, "Good man," he said and offered his hand to me. I took his in mine and we shook on it. The others relented a little and I jokingly replied to Isabela, "I guess that's a yes then." She raised an eyebrow and I told her, "Yes, I am looking forward to sniffing after her." The tension dissolved as everyone chuckled.

"So, where is she anyway?" I asked.

Varric rolled his eyes, "She's gone to Athenril. Said she wanted some pure lyrium before she took off, didn't want to break Ferelden rules."

"But breaking Kirkwall rules is just fine," added Anders with a chuckle.

Isabela clapped me on the shoulder, "Come on, let's get you settled into a room."

I was getting along fine with everyone else, I thought, so worming my way back into Hales' good graces couldn't be hard, right?

How very wrong I was.

* * *

><p>AN: My apologies for the late update, things have been very busy. I'm currently doing my finals at Uni so writing has been given slightly less time. Still, I do intend to finish this story so please don't give up on this story.

As always, please R&R.

As always, you have my love.

Ann


	16. Secret Letters

**Chapter 16 – Secret Letters**

_Hales_

When I made it aboard Isabela's new ship that Alistair had acquired for her, through some sneaky means that he wouldn't tell me about, all was _friendly_. Everyone was standing around, talking rather casually, all civility and no hostility. Carver was regaling some joke and Alistair was actually _laughing. _The little traitor, I thought to myself, men were such unreliable creatures. Widge looked at me with confusion in his gorgeous doggy eyes, huffed out in disappointment and dislodged the sealed package of lyrium that he had been carrying aboard. The loud and heavy thump upon the wood caused everyone to look up. The cease in conversation was automatic and abrupt.

"Oh, you're back," Merrill said sweetly, inviting me over with a wave of her hand, "come and join us!"

I didn't want to join them. I didn't want to be in any place where Carver was near. All those things he had said to me constantly reverberated in my mind and seeing his face made his voice ring louder in my brain. The truth of the matter hit me particularly hard:

Mother's death was partially my fault.

Still, I had learned my lesson where he was involved. I wasn't about to open up to him again, it caused too much pain when he wanted to turn around and stab me in the heart. I refused to even look at me.

I touched my forehead, rubbing at my temples as though I had a headache and smiled weakly, "Thank you, Merrill but I'm tired. I think I will retire to my rooms."

Isabela swooped down from the top of the mast, swinging down from a thick rope and landing gracefully before me. She whistled to one of her crewmen, "Hey! Take this package and put it in her room. The rest of you, haul anchor and set sail for Ferelden." She smiled at me reassuringly, "You go down and rest, I'll have someone come get you when food is ready."

As I turned away, I murmured quietly, "Thank you, Isabela."

She touched my shoulder, voice uncharacteristically gentle, "I never really thanked you for saving my life. I guess that means you'll never have to thank me."

In my own private room, Widge lounged on a soft, velvet cushion, large enough to bed at least two full grown men. He seemed so exhausted from all the running around and keeping me company the last few days that I didn't want to disturb him by resting my head into his brown fur. I too, felt so tired. So exhausted. I slid into the bed, smooth linens covering me and fell into troubled sleep.

_Blood. Mother's stitched neck. Her foggy grey eyes stared into my soul. When her mouth opened into a scream, more blood fell out in clumps, a small waterfall of oozing, rancid blood. Her eyes changed into those of Quentin's, her face morphing and twisting into his features. I screamed. Demons appeared behind him, the fiery burn so close to my skin that I could feel the heat almost scorching me._

_I tried to run away. I tried to turn but it was as though I had been suspended in water. Every step took effort, too slow. I couldn't get away. _

_Desire demons surrounded me, shades and rage demons edged closer and closer. I tried to use my powers, frosty blue light like Carver's eyes issuing at my fingertips. But they too vanished, Carver's sneer echoing in my mind, "You deserve this. Mother's death was your fault. YOUR fault!"_

_I had nothing to protect me._

_I ran, the environment changing from the sewers to trees, darkness and a night without a moon. Fog curled around me and I shivered as Quentin's maniacal laugh echoed behind me, "I'm going to get you! I'm going to kill you!"_

_I tripped, fell, tried to get up and felt a heavy weight on my back. More maniacal laughter filled my ears and the cool tip of metal was pressing against the middle of my back. I screamed, utterly frightened, "I'm going to take your heart, rip it from you the way you ripped mine!"_

_Then there was someone chanting my name, "Hales… Hales… Hales…"_

"Hales!" Alistair cried out and my eyes snapped open, breath catching as I told him, "Quentin… he's here. He was trying to kill me, Alistair!" I sobbed out, fear making me a gibbering wreck.

"It was just a dream… just a dream," he hushed, pulling me against his chest, "Just a nightmare."

There were murmurs of worry around me and though I was blinded, burying my head in my brother's chest, I heard Anders offer, "I could cast a sleep spell on you. I know you hate it but you need rest and at least, you won't dream…"

I shook my head, "No…" I refused, "I don't need it." It was just a nightmare. It was just dreams. It'd been like that since Mother died. My sleep was troubled and I couldn't really rest for fear that Quentin would come for me. It was stupid. He was dead. I wasn't.

That didn't make me feel any better.

Fenris reasoned, "This is not negotiable. This is not the first night you've woken up screaming."

Isabela's voice rang out, "Let the girl decide later. She's shaken up. Come on Princess, come up and grab something to eat." She had taken to calling me 'Princess' as a pet name since she found out about my identity. I was no longer 'Hawke'. Not even Varric called me by that name anymore.

When I rose from the bed, I saw Carver's eyes locking with mine. He was standing by the door, watching me with fear and concern marring his expression. I was instantly defensive, sneering at him, "What are you looking at, Templar? Afraid that the evil blood mage will turn crazy? Where's your notebook, Templar? Don't you need to report to Meredith?"

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes that caused triumph to course through me. I cackled, "Better run now, _Knight-Corporal _Carver, I might turn into an abomination any minute!"

I brushed past him and he took me by the wrist, stopping me, his lyrium singing against my mana. I ripped my arm from his grip and glared at him with everything I had, snapping our connection shut with as much force as I could. He flinched and said sedately, "You should know that I never intended on doing anything that hadn't been approved by either you or Alistair. In terms of Meredith, I mean."

I questioned rhetorically, "You won't do anything that hasn't been approved by me?" then I snarled as savagely as I could, "Good. Then keep your body three paces behind me at all times, your stench downwind and _never _touch me again. I am the Princess and you will address me as such." I stalked away without another word, leaving open jaws behind me. I wanted to feel good, hurt him as he hurt me but when he murmured at my retreating back, "Of course, Your Highness," all I wanted to do was cry.

I shoved food in my mouth, not tasting it. No one spoke, not entirely sure how to deal with my emotional explosion. Carver came to dinner half-way through, placing food on this plate before leaving. He came back at the end to drop the plate with the servants and had bid everyone goodnight. I felt his eyes upon me, wanting me to look up at him but all I felt was equal parts anger, hurt and shame. I couldn't look up at him and he left with a miserable sigh.

Alistair had been gentle in his admonishment, "Taking it a little far, aren't you? He's not here to hurt you and you're not doing yourself any favours by festering that hate inside you."

I had sighed just as hard as Carver had, "I don't want to talk about it, Alistair."

He shook his head, "You're my sister and I love you but all this… is wrong. Whether you want to admit it or not, he cares. Even if I pretended that I didn't care about that, which by the way isn't true because the fact that he cares about you is very important to me, I cannot pretend that you don't care about him or that you aren't hurting something fierce."

Well, in some ways, he hadn't changed the confusing way he had with words. I laughed cynically, "He's got some way of showing how much he cares…" I said helplessly, "I hate feeling like this."

He persuaded, "Carver's human. He makes mistakes. Hating him is only going to hurt you and you know that. Forgive him and forgive yourself," he said knowingly, "It isn't your fault your Mother died. It isn't really his fault either and the fact of the matter is, you can't blame him for venting his grief. I'm not going to say his words were justified but I can't put him in the wrong. You kept things from him too."

"But I –"

"No buts. He hurt you by saying terrible things. You've hurt him by not telling him things."

I couldn't fault Alistair's logic.

After some more food, Anders cast a sleeping spell upon me, refusing my countering arguments. Knowing it would soon settle, I left for my room. I stared at myself in the looking glass. For the first time in forever, I took off Carver's amulet, letting the blue stone sit upon the vanity, as opposed to around my neck. Stubbornly, I tried to tell myself to let him go, even if Alistair was right and I should patch up my relationship with Carver.

Anders' sleeping spell was already beginning to set in and I had limited time to really think but Carver… he hadn't meant to say the words he did, he evidently had his own plans. He was on _my_ side, why had I been so awful? I never got to answer that, for rest enveloped me and I knew no more.

The nights at sea were excruciating for me. Any night without Anders' spell caused me problems. I would wake up each night shaking and fearful, strangled screams caught in my throat, awakening the others. My friends would crowd into my room, Alistair's eyes worried, all of them offering hushed whispers as I described seeing Mother and Quentin in my dreams, both of them angry at me.

The days were slightly better. During the times with sun lit up the sky, I could look forward to Ferelden, my home of warm breezes and sweet scents. Alistair and I discussed at length about Anora and Meredith. At first, we laughed and joked about her but eventually, it gave way to some strategizing.

Meredith had slipped up about Ferelden choosing another Queen as opposed to another King.

I asked, "What could an alliance do though between Meredith and Anora? Anora couldn't offer very much."I shrugged, "Is it possible that maybe Meredith and Anora aren't very honest with one another?"

"Unlikely," said Alistair, "Anora may have some political power and she may have spies."

"So, what should we do?"

He shook his head, "I'm not entirely sure just yet. Until we get some more information, we cannot idly attack. That would simply alert the enemy. No, we cannot do that."

I frowned, "Varric once mentioned to me that he has some contacts in Ferelden, it might be prudent to ask him."

The rest of the group eventually got involved with such discussions of strategizing but some of the possibilities seemed even more unlikely than the last. We lacked information. Well, until Carver joined in anyway.

Eventually, he had interjected during one such session, "If I may interrupt, Your Highness?"

Knowing Alistair wanted me to try to at least be civil and realizing that as a Princess, I could not afford to seem uncouth in gait, I gestured amiably.

He said, "At the funeral, Meredith mentioned that the there was a new political player in Ferelden politics. She evidently has her sources. She seemed to believe that this person was the Champion of Kirkwall. She also slipped up when she found out how close the Champion was to Alistair, stating that Your Highness could potentially ruin the support she had gained for her… well, she stopped herself but it sounded like she was about to say 'ruling'."

I knew I deserved it but every time he said 'Champion' or 'Your Highness', my heart thudded in my chest painfully. He wasn't rude nor offensive, mocking in tone or sarcastic, each word was spoken with sincerity and perhaps, that was what cut me deepest. He was being civil and I was being an idiot. Yet, I couldn't accept him.

Carver continued, his voice low and sophisticated, formal and _miserable_, "I also know that Meredith's been recruiting a lot of new Templars lately and has requested that the Guard increase its numbers as well…"

I heard his implication and supplied, "So she may start a war that would push Anora onto the throne then Anora would support Meredith as both Knight-Commander _and_ Viscountess?"

His words were sedate, "That may be a sound estimate, Your Highness but I cannot give guarantees."

I winced, 'a sound estimate'? Since when did Carver walk around talking like a stuffy, old noble? I kept my sigh inside. I really needed to talk to him. Lover or no, he was family. I could, at the very least, be civil. I tried to brush those thoughts away for later.

"Perhaps I should keep my identity secret," I offered, "Then maybe I could spy on Anora, get close to her."

Alistair shook his head, "No, that's too dangerous. I want you protected. Not to mention, I've been getting secret notes giving me a heads up on what to expect. I think we have an ally, someone who spies of Anora. I'd rather you play another role."

I was doubtful, "We don't know who he or she is. How do we know it isn't a trap, meant to lure you into a false sense of security?"

Isabela suggested, "You can compromise here. Publicly announcing who you are has its merits," she looked at me, "but you'll need to be a better actress. You'll need to make a strained relationship with Alistair, show Anora and the other nobles that you want more power than you are given. In short, seduce the nobility."

I had criticized, "Then that spoils the whole farce of me and Alistair being lovers. We didn't do that stupid act in front of Meredith for no reason."

Carver had supplied gently, "It was enough to cause some confusion. It'll stall the process of Meredith or Anora's planning as they attempt to reflect upon the possibilities. You could be the Princess but they could consider you a pawn in Alistair's game, perhaps a fraud pretending to be the Princess. Either way, they would have to tread with caution given your title and power in both Kirkwall and Ferelden."

This wasn't Carver. He was too polite. I preferred his brashness, his rudeness. Anything but this.

Anders joked, "Bet you wish you learnt those seduction spells, huh? You could just seduce Anora. Or Meredith. Maybe both."

I frowned at him and replied, "Seduce Meredith? Are you insane?"

Alistair shrugged, "It's not a bad idea," and I squawked in indignation as he amended, "No! I meant, Isabela's idea! Just argue with me in court. That'll set those tongues wagging. Agree with Anora or something, see if that helps. Try and negotiate with some of the nobles and see what they want. When we get more of those notes, we'll work something out then."

That was as much as Alistair was willing to compromise on. Under no circumstances was I to be with Anora alone or to attempt spying activities. Eventually when all of us deviated into other topics, breaking off into smaller groups and pairs, I stood and went to the other side of the ship.

I needed to work things out with Carver. He and I, no matter what, were family. We could be civil, be friends even. None of my family would wish to see the Hawke's so broken up. I turned to lock eyes with him, tilting my head in a light summons. Maybe after all these years, I had learnt _something_ about relationships. I wouldn't have been so forgiving or compromising a few years ago but I had much more to hide. Then.

He came to join me, his tone aloof, "You wished to see me, Your Highness?"

I was still hurt, still wary of him but we needed to clear the air. Watching the deep orange of the sun set slowly so only one half of its rays could touch the earth, I offered, "What I said the other day… It was unnecessary and rude. I apologize. You weren't here to obstruct me and I –", I cleared my throat, "My hostility was unforgivable. I don't… I don't really expect you to call me 'Your Highness' left, right and centre. We shouldn't be like this. I just want us back to normal without all this hostility. No matter what, we're family and I just…" I broke off, uncertain of what else I could say.

Carver came closer to me, leaning on the ship's edge with his elbows upon the wood. His low bass was comforting, "It's alright, Hales. Mother's death –" He sighed and grimaced, "I know you tried your best. I knew that at the time, very deep down but I just didn't know how to deal with everything. I made some pretty bad comments. Let's call it even and move on."

I exhaled in relief, "Thank you, Carver."

"No," he said, "don't thank me. What I said was equally unforgivable. I knew you were planning to tell me things, it was just such a slap in the face with Mother's death that I blurted out all the wrong things. When I walked out that night, I wanted to kill myself. I hated how I hurt you and you need to know that."

I nodded, "Let's just put it behind us." He was being so utterly sincere that I didn't have the heart to stay angry at him.

Mother was his mother as well as mine. He had the right to vent, to be angry and to act out during grief. I had been the unfortunate victim but it hadn't really been directed at me. I had to grow up.

I said suddenly, "I killed him. Quentin." My eyes closed as I remembered the scene, "I had his chest… open and his heart was still beating. I took his mana… and then I – I – I fed his life energy back into him, kept him alive whilst I squeezed his heart. I could feel it giving way beneath my fingers, all I could feel was hatred and hurt. I could barely hear his screams."

Carver sighed gently, "It's why you keep screaming in the middle of the night, isn't it? All the violence, it's too much for you. You aren't Fenris."

I revealed, "I'm afraid to close my eyes and sleep. Killing people is one thing. Torturing them… I shouldn't have done it. I don't know why I did. Or well, I do but…"

I felt his lyrium reach out for me, felt light tickling flames lick over my skin. I allowed it, reaching forward with my mana, surging towards him until our souls seemed to become one. Carver murmured, "Just relax into it."

He caught my body in his arms, blue flames licking over my skin until my mind felt light, body utterly limp and relaxed. "I'm so tired," I whispered.

"Close your eyes, Hales and let me help you sleep."

This was Carver, I told myself. If I couldn't trust him in this world, who could I trust?

It didn't matter. Carver was here to protect me and I could give into the darkness.

I found dreamless rest, the streams of blue lyrium keeping me safe the night through. I could recognize his signature and though occasionally in the night, some darker images filtered through, I found deeper sleep than I had in a very long time.

I woke up in my own bed aboard the ship, strangely disappointed not to find Carver beside me. I couldn't feel his lyrium, I was alone.

My friends seemed relieved that I managed to go through a night without screaming. Varric had commented encouragingly, "Nice to see you getting some real sleep, Princess."

Everyone shared smiles and when I looked up into Carver's eyes, he smiled at me reassuringly.

It began a habit of him and me talking every sunset. When the sun began its trek downhill, half of the sun above the ocean, we would quietly stand along the banisters of the ship.

The first evening, we were lapsed in silence, still tense and awkward but without any hostility. We watched the sun continually dip downwards together, bringing the night, midnight blue overwhelming the normally bright sky with gradients of purple and black.

When stars began to twinkle, he finally asked me, "Do you want to know why I joined the Templar Order?" his voice gentler than I had ever heard.

I blinked, hadn't he told me this already? I stuttered, "You – you said that it was because of Father… because I didn't need you," _I always needed you, you complete idiot!_ I thought to myself.

He nodded, "It's true but not the only reason. I wanted to protect you. I thought I was doing something worthwhile by joining the Templars, being able to protect you at the same time. I was a fool, of course, I should have been home but I wasn't and there's little I can do about it now." His eyes found mine, so blue, so beautiful, so clear despite the emotional turmoil, "You never seemed to need me. You never even wanted to tell me you were adopted but life always seemed to turn back to you. Always you. Just like now. This was never for Meredith, I was only ever worried about you."

I couldn't reply to his words and a lump rose up my throat but I tried, "I'm sorry for not telling you. About my adoption, about being royalty… I should have," I said, "Granted, I didn't know I was royalty until after you became a Templar but… I should have told you the first chance I got. I'm sorry."

"I know now," he offered and asked jokingly, "I'll probably thing of questions though. I just can't make them out because I have so many."

I nodded and tried to smile, "In your own time."

Carver didn't actually ask me anything until two days later. We were standing upon the deck, watching the sunset when he said, "So… this whole sorcery thing, I don't remember you having it when we were in Lothering. Anders mentioned something about the Deep Roads and Father mentioned that you were far too powerful to just be a mage but –"

I shrugged and interrupted, "Do you know what happened in the Deep Roads?"

"No. I know very little."

"Bartrand had us locked into one area of the thaig and there was only the one doorway. I had a bad feeling when Varric tossed Bartrand the idol. We were already following him but… too late, I guess. There was only one way out, to venture deeper in." I shook my head, "The deeper we went, the more curious the creatures."

I gestured to the open sea, "I never imagined the Deep Roads to be as vast as the sea but it is. Most of it is simply abandoned. It was beautiful though. Lyrium crystals lay around like giant pillars, glowing blue with pure red veins curling all around it." I closed my eyes, imagining the beauty and taint that I had once seen, "There was something soulful and beautiful but we could sense evil, a stain within the Deep Roads. We found creatures called the Profane, little creatures made of rock that could build up at a moment's notice."

He frowned, "What?"

I nodded, "It sounds insane but there it was, lots of little pebbles strung up together into a vaguely humanoid creature. Unfortunately, they weren't all little. We met two powerful ones. One was a demon. It was going to make a deal with us, help us get out for some price in return. We said no. It was a hard fight but not impossible."

Carver's voice hitched, "And the other one?"

I hummed lightly, "The other one? A very ancient rock wraith, large enough to fill up the entire front area of our mansion in Kirkwall. Huge. And it had seen many battles, the boulders that made up its body were scarred and damaged. It was insane how powerful that thing was. One second, it was a rolling boulder, threatening to squash us. Next, its arms converted to crude but very effective weapons, beating against us."

I noticed the way Carver's fists had gripped white upon the silver gleaming wood of the ship and I tried to convince him winningly, "You know, it's in the past-"

Carver snarled at the interruption, "Just fucking tell me, Hales. I need to know."

His anger wasn't directed at me and with an exasperated sigh, I looked up into the bright, flaming sky, remembering how it was to die, "I was dying. My heart was slowing, my mind not thinking, my vision was getting dark… I'm sure I was bleeding but I don't remember bleeding. Then it was like…" I trailed off, searching for words, unsure how to keep going.

"Like?" he prompted me.

I whispered, "Like power was pushing into me. It feels a little like when a mage heals your wounds, that same warm feeling but it felt alien to me, like something was driving my heart to beat again. My body…" I made hand gestures, "I could feel vibrations in each fibre of my body… and my mana pulsed and the rock wraith… it just kind of exploded apart."

"But how?" he asked me, "I mean, Anders told me about how you can absorb lyrium and mana. I've seen some of the extraordinary things you can do but how?"

"We will probably never find out. Sarah, my real Mother, was evidently not a mage," I shrugged, "and none of us know her true lineage. Maric was King and if he had ancestors who were sorcerers, it would have been hushed up. Where I get my powers from will probably always remain a mystery. The point is that humans can't touch pure lyrium. I can. I can touch the dust, I can absorb it through my skin. I can do all sorts of strange things. I'm a sorceress, that's the long and the short of it."

"Fair enough," he commented.

"Is it?" I asked him, "I've been practicing all this sorcery for a while but there are limits that I wouldn't have just being a mage. These past years have been great but they have also been very painful. I nearly died down there… sometimes, I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if I had."

His voice broke with disbelief and fear, "Don't you dare say things like that! You're a survivor, you got better. Don't ever say things like that. If you died-", he groaned, doubling over a little, fingers clenched against the edges of the ship. When he recovered, his eyes were upon mine, harsh in its panic, "Don't ever even _think_ of that."

I smiled sadly, remembering what it was like exactly that day in the Deep Roads. I stared out into the water and Carver murmured, "There's more, isn't there?"

I murmured quietly, "It was like you were right there with me. Your voice telling me to keep my eyes open, arms wrapped tight to protect me…" I laughed a little in heartache, "All I could think of was you. Every regret. Every memory. Every moment we shared. I wasn't sure if I wanted you there or not. And when I woke up from all of it, I realized you weren't there with me at all. It was all just a mirage, a disappointingly real mirage."

He and I stared at each other and said nothing more.

The following day, he was morose, pensive and regretful. I had touched his shoulder, a wave of mana to blanket him comfortingly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I wish I had been there with you," he said before he sighed out, "in the Deep Roads, I mean."

I sent him a consoling smile, "It wasn't like I really gave you a choice, Carver. And I'll own up to that mistake. You deserved to go and I abused my position for my selfish inability to deal with everything."

Carver shook his head with a sigh, "You've always been throwing yourself into threatening situations. I should have been there. I should have pushed. So many times, I should have stayed and I didn't. The Deep Roads. The Qunari. I was there for Father's secrets but then I abandoned you when Mother died. It'll be different this time. I promise."

His eyes found mine, searching and reassuring, "You won't be alone dealing with Meredith."

"I know," I said before remembering to tell him, "Mother… when she died, she wanted me to tell you that she loved you, that she was proud of you and that –", I broke off, unsure if I wanted to tell him the next part.

"What else did she say?" he asked, his cerulean eyes upon the side of my face.

With a swallow, I spoke in a rush, "She wanted you to know that you had her support."

"Thank you, Mother," he murmured to himself before saying to me, "She was the most reluctant out of our parents, Father always knew there was more between us. For a very long time, she wanted to deny that."

I felt the expression freeze upon my face, I didn't want to get into that topic and interrupted, "Carver, I –"

Though resignation was in his voice as he said, "We've made a real mess of it, haven't we? Right from the start. It will never be like Lothering again, will it?" there was a strange glint in his eye, a glint of steely determination.

I shook my head, "No Carver, it won't. After everything, I can't –"

"Can't or won't?" he asked before telling me, "I'm going to keep trying. I didn't come here for Meredith. I came for you. Maybe it is a good thing, us not being like in Lothering… that isn't what I want. I want more. Lothering wasn't more."

Tears welled in my eyes, "Don't. Carver. Please," I muttered helplessly.

He was relentless, "You gave Athenril a chance. You told her she was welcome to try and seduce you though you weren't interested. Don't I get the same courtesy?"

I almost managed to chuckle at the words he used, "I never realized 'courtesy' was a word in your vocabulary but I suppose I can't exactly stop you."

Carver's hand found mine, my fingers fitting in the palm of his hand so perfectly. His thumb was rough, coarse as it slid over the back of my hand. I could have pulled away, should have pulled away but I didn't. "Carver…" I whispered and he smiled, stepping closer to me.

"Carver…" I murmured again. Lips brushed at my temple, effectively silencing any protest I could utter. Oh, to be touched by him was so sweet.

"Are there any other secrets I need to know about?" he asked me, his voice gentle, fingers toying with my own.

I shook my head. It wasn't an entire lie. I only had one secret left and it was how much I loved him… that wasn't what he was asking for anyway. I summarized, "No, that's it. I was abandoned by my Mother, given a normal family life and though I missed my brother, I never spoke a word of it. Mother had saved the ring she found around my neck, the dress I wore when Father found me and a drawing Alistair gave me," I lifted my right hand, showing him the ruby ring I wore, "There's an inscription inside, it says 'Maric' and 'Sarah'. Anders and Fenris had suspected that I had been adopted and confirmed it with me in the Deep Roads. I told them I had a brother called Alistair and Anders went off to investigate, sending letters to the Warden Commander, Queen Elissa. I went to Ferelden, spoke to Alistair and the rest is history, so they say."

"Talking about me, are we?" Alistair's voice popped in, his twinkling eyes alight with humour.

I knocked my shoulder against his chest lightly, "Don't get a big head, we're not saying anything nice."

"Such cruel words from my own sister. A man truly needs protection from all you vicious, vicious women," he said mournfully, a dramatic hand over his heart.

When I rolled my eyes, he dropped a kiss to the top of my head and said, "Well, it is getting late. I just wanted to say goodnight. Try and sleep better tonight, sweetheart." I gave him a quick hug and bid him goodnight, watching him disappear downstairs.

Silence reigned for a little while, the sea breezes sliding across my skin and through my hair. I shook my hair out, letting it rest on air rather than on my shoulders for a brief moment. Carver asked me, "It's why you kept pushing me away, isn't it? Because of your Mother… the other one, I mean. I never really thought about it, got too caught up with my own feelings and confusions. But that's why, isn't it?"

There was a moment for me, where I was suspended between brushing him off and spilling the truth out to him. Then I realized that I was too exhausted to keep him at bay. I wasn't ready to succumb to him but neither did I have the energy or care to push him away.

"I was afraid of you."

"I wouldn't have hurt you like that, Hales," he said in a disappointed fashion.

"It isn't like that," I tried to tell him, "Logically, I know that."

"But you couldn't trust in that."

"Also not entirely true," I corrected, "it wasn't necessarily that you would hurt me. It was the way you could be with me and make me forget everything. Make me lose control, lose my mind. Every time you were touching me, it took every effort to keep you away. One more second and I would have let go."

Carver's confusion cleared from his eyes, "You never wanted to feel so vulnerable ever again. Never wanted someone to have that kind of power over you. You didn't want to let me love you because you were afraid of what the consequences could be. For the both of us. It would destroy you to feel that way. I thought it was something like that."

I nodded, "Yes. That's exactly it."

How did he know? How did he manage to see _so_ much? All this time, I had tried to hide from him and he knew. All these years. I was an open book to him. No matter how I tried, there was little in my life that I could truly hide from him. I could lie about facts, keep secrets and evade but eventually, he always figured me out.

"Did you ever… want me though?"

For a moment, just a split-second, I was so certain 'want' wasn't the word he had in mind. For a split second, I wanted to push my mana into him to show him how I felt. I ignored that thought and smiled instead, "I didn't stay in your arms every night in Lothering or sleep in your bed in Ostagar because I was bored, Carver."

He almost chuckled, "Fair enough. And what about now?"

That had me freezing in an instant. I stared at him with incredulous eyes and he gestured for me to answer the question. When I turned out to stare at the darkness of the sky and how it melted into the ocean seamlessly, he pressed, "After everything, after the fights, after the separation, after the nights we spent in the Deep Roads, after Mother's death, after all the nasty words, after everything," he listed out before asking, "is the feeling still there for you?"

A slow rush, steady and inextinguishable, spread and sizzled right through my body. The words flew out impulsively, "It never left. You talk like the feeling hasn't been snowballing in my chest all these years despite your absence in my life. I wanted to push it aside and it was easy when you weren't a constant temptation in front of me, when I had things to try and distract myself with but it was always there. It was like you were never out of my head. Ever."

"Good," he said with conviction before commenting cruelly, "Now I know what weaknesses to exploit so you'll never be able to walk away from me."

I stared at him, eyes wide at the words, almost fearful until his eyes found mine. Clear, crystal blue. No facades, no games, just honesty. And unfathomable affection.

And it was in that moment that I realized what Carver was doing. He was pushing me, testing me, wanting to make me see that I could trust him with my vulnerabilities. He was trying to plant my feet upon firm ground, trying to make me feel secure.

It wasn't necessarily about being together. It was a matter of trust. My body relaxed and I smiled, allowing our minds to bond together. Crooking his fingers at me in invitation, he made a satisfied hum in response, knowing that the message was firmly conveyed. I was hard pressed to refuse his summoning, curling into his arms easily.

Then I heard a curious pop in my body, a click that came from within my body. I looked down at my body with a start, thinking that perhaps it was a buckle come undone or maybe some wound that had reopened. I pulled away as Carver watched me, apprehensive and uneasy, "What? What?"

Then I felt it. Warmth seeped through me, the way heat bled into the flesh on a hot summer's day when the rays beat down. My toes curled when invisible fingers tickled at the soles of my feet, a bizarre itch sliding into my shins, underneath my skin. Through my fingertips, I could feel the thudding beat of my heart, the pulse of blood rushing through my body echoing beneath my nails. And my eyes, I felt my very eyeballs changing, mana turning my sight completely mauve and indigo. Power pulsed and I recognized the sensation, the prickly influence of my sorcery building inside me. The feeling left as quickly as it came and I knew, I just knew, my first trigger had unlocked.

I blurted out whilst sliding to the deck floor, "My first trigger. I felt it. It gave me powers, I think."

He knelt beside me, a little shaky, asking me with uncertainty in his voice, "Should I get Anders? I could feel that and… it wasn't unpleasant but…"

I shook my head, "My first trigger!" I said with excitement, "I won't go through so many shakes and shivers, the withdrawal… Not unless I push too hard or something," I babbled on for a while about all the things I could do.

Carver watched and tried to listen, face apprehensive.

Carver.

Clarity reigned.

Carver. He was a trigger. He was a trigger. I knew that. His voice or his touch. No, his touch. He had already spoken. It was just a matter of whether he was the second trigger or the third. I uttered out, "Touch me." He blanched like I had lost my mind and I repeated into his mind:

_Touch me_

Hesitantly, he sat down in front of me, stretching his legs out as his finger lightly grazed mine. The warmth began to curl within me and then he pulled his hand back with a gasp, "I could – I could feel that… that heat. Your hand. What? Are you sure?"

My heart thudded with anticipation in my chest and I lifted my hands out to him, gasping at the similar sensation when his fingers met mine. I could feel the heat slide to my face, to the very tips of my ears, all the way down my body. This time, mana sparkled, almost glittery wisps of magic wrapping itself around my wrists, swirling up my shoulders. I giggled at the ticklish sensation and shared it with Carver, sending it over to him. Our eyes met, his blue eyes flared brightly, I felt the helpless need for him claw deeply within me. The desire reared like flames in my belly and hunger shone in his eyes, darkening them to midnight. One moment, there was reined-in yearning and the next, both of us moved together, sealing our mouths together, the craving and thirst for one another too much to bear.

My arms twined around his neck, his fingers carded through my long hair. The heat of my body, the pulse of blood, the throb of power, the vibration of my need for him fuelled me. His arms were strong as he wound them around me, pulling me into his lap. His lips were sensuously rough against my own, sending heat flooding right through my body. The kisses were hungry, long, his tongue duelling passionately with mine. My fingers dug into his shoulder blades, nails denting his skin with little half-moon crescents. Tingles of sensation speared through my spine, the magic in my blood making me mindless. There were frantic touches, my hands upon his chest, sliding to his shoulders and down his arms, his hands upon my legs, sliding beneath my dress to touch more skin. Something about his actions was so forbidden, so hot that I cried out, arching into him, his smoothly shaved jaw glided down my neck, his teeth exquisitely gentle as he nibbled at the base of my neck.

I could feel how hard he was beneath me and my mind was lost as I moved suggestively against him, rocking my hips with slowness. Carver groaned, a rough and coarse sound, with a dark chuckle of anticipation within. My vision blurred with a rainbow of colour, both pleasure and sorcery slithering through me. His mouth wrapped around a spot just below my jaw, sucking on it before scraping his teeth over the skin. I shivered as he released me, an immature grin upon his face, "I like that new mark on you."

So caught up in his touch, I laughed softly, uncaring to everything else in the world.

_Kiss me again, Carver._

_Anything you want._

His lips mouthed the words against my lips before kissing me more deeply, hands threading deep into my hair, perfectly cradling me. His tongue traced my lips until I opened for him, ready for the deep stab of his tongue but he surprised me, his kisses soft, slow, deep and so very tender. I sighed into his mouth.

The sorcery faded and all that was left was a need for Carver, an insatiable appetite for him. Fingers cupped at my breasts drawing frissons of heat ribboning right through me. I arched, threw my head backwards, allowing his teeth to graze down my throat before he soothed my flesh with soft kisses.

_We have time… Let me love you, Hales._

_Anything you want._

He pulled back to stare into my eyes and I smiled dreamily at him, slanting my lips against his in a soft movement, wondrous and languid. I heard him chuckle, contentment and sweetness despite the twin flares of arousal within the two of us.

A crewman's shouts woke us. Both of us jolted in protest against the sound. It was like a whiplash right through me. We stared at each other, almost unable to comprehend what had happened. Our link slammed shut as the fear crawled through me in an instant.

I backed away from him. What was I thinking?

He read my retreat, his eyes showing the restraint of his limbs not to reach out and take me. I could barely move, hypnotised by his half-lidded eyes, hungry and lusting, until he growled at me, "Hales, for the love of the Maker, get to your room and lock the door before I decide to screw restraining myself and ravish you until you _scream_."

It was a threat, one I still managed to take seriously despite my heart and body's protestations. I scrambled to my feet and ran for my room, not looking back until the door of my bedroom snapped shut.

I found restless sleep, my dreams haunted by the images of Carver's solid body atop my own, his mouth upon mine, rough hands caressing my skin. I shivered with aching eroticism, lonely upon my bed, until I finally woke.

Anders was the first to notice the change within me.

It was during breakfast and I had strode in, attempting to act normal. Everyone looked up and feeling scrutinised, I said slowly whilst trying to meet everyone's eyes dead on, "Good morning." I tried to tell myself that they couldn't possibly know anything. Unless Carver told them? But no… he wouldn't, would he?

Carver's eyes roamed all over me and I tried to avoid his eyes. I found myself locking vision with Anders instead, who raised an eyebrow at me and attempted to stifle a grin. I looked towards Alistair who was staring at my face very strangely. I tried to clear my throat and Isabela had offered, "There's food in the kitchen. I can-"

Anders slipped in easily, "Don't worry. I can ensure our lovely Hales gets something to eat. My Grey Warden stomach requires seconds anyway."

There were chuckles as he tilted his head into the ship's kitchen. Knowing that I was to be interrogated, I sighed and stomped into the adjacent room. Seeing his lover grin, Fenris followed in as well.

"So. You and Carver. What's with the avoiding eyes thing? I thought you two had it worked out?" Anders asked inquisitively.

I refused to answer and he bumped his hip against mine, "Oh come on, spill the - Hold up," he stopped and dropped the ladle back into the stew and narrowed his eyes on me, "Two unlocked triggers? What happened last night?" Seeing his lover's reaction, Fenris had similarly surveyed me, his hand brushing over my skin, watching as the lyrium brands on his skin glowed brighter and brighter.

I groaned and gestured for them to enter the small closet used to store food so we could speak more privately. It was unfortunate that Alistair had chosen that moment to come into the kitchen for seconds or thirds, depending on his appetite, and seeing my furtive movements, had barged in as well.

I was squished into a closet with three very well-grown men.

Alistair asked brightly, "What's with the secret meeting?"

Anders pointed to me, "Something happened last night."

It came out all at once, "I was talking to Carver and I hit my first trigger after telling him about my past and the Deep Roads expedition and how we nearly died and how I found out that I could absorb lyrium."

Fenris pieced it together, "Then you remembered that Carver was somehow another trigger and unlocked your second trigger as well."

I nodded, "Exactly!"

"I think, dear sister, we're more worried about how that second trigger was unlocked," stated Alistair patronisingly, his fingers brushing aside my hair to expose the red hickey that Carver had left last night. "I thought there was something there when you walked in this morning… but your hair," he made some gestures to imply that it was partially hidden.

I pursed my lips together, "We kissed. Then I ran for it. End of story."

Anders chuckled, "That roughly translates to the two of you nearly having sex on the top deck of the ship but then you realized what you were doing and you gave the poor man blue balls."

I punched him in the shoulder, "Stop it! It wasn't like that! We were just… and then we… Argh!" I cried out, "I can't do this anymore! Carver – we- argh… every time we try something, it blows up in our face. I can't keep doing this! It hurts too much!" I pulled the collar of my dress down slightly to show them the distinct lack of Carver's amulet, "Come on, I stopped wearing it for a reason."

It was pointless really. Not wearing the amulet hadn't done anything at all. I still willingly went into his arms, kissed him without thought, what had changed aside from the fact that my denial had caused me to take off some jewellery?

The three of them exchanged looks of defeat and resignation, concern and sympathy. The topic was dropped.

We were in Ferelden a few hours later and life then became a rather busy routine, albeit that was tense, heartbreaking, filled with yearning and angst when Carver was around, which was constantly. Though Alistair took over the discussions of Carver's reports, allowing me some time on my own, Carver was always following me around all day, keeping to the side, as was the task given to him by Meredith, watching me with burning eyes and approving gaze.

We spoke rarely, mostly sedate 'good morning's and 'good night's, whilst I conversed with various nobles, negotiated treaties, discussed with legal advisors about Ferelden's need to update our policies. My coronation was slotted within my busy schedule and there were ample amounts of dinner formals, balls and other parties to attend.

I wanted to reach out to him, to talk about us but every time I tried, we ended up staring into each other's eyes and eventually, Carver told me, "I know what you are trying to do but it isn't necessary. I rather you just take the time to get used to me again."

"Carver…" I tried to say.

It was the one time he had touched me after the incident aboard the ship. He took my hands into his covered ones and murmured in comfort, "I hate seeing you so conflicted. Just give yourself some time. You've got things to do and you need to find a rhythm. Just let me stay by your side. Eventually, it will become easier."

I had to trust in his advice because I didn't have any of my own. If we hadn't kissed, maybe we'd still be talking every sunset like on board the ship but we had… and I couldn't help but want to stay in his arms.

I eventually found time to track down Mikhail de Silva, my ex-lover from Lothering but whilst reading the notes in the archives, there was little to no mention of his family. There was a court session in which Mikhail's father had mentioned being rather unhappy with Queen Anora's ruling and behaviour but after that, the entirely family had left rather suddenly.

It was all rather suspicious to me. Why would the entire family just uproot? The Blight hadn't reached Denerim at that point. Alistair had no real input, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't in court so I don't know the family. You could ask some of the other families but I doubt they'll know anymore than what was written in the archive notes."

That left the other part of my life – dealing with political life, which proved to be most problematic.

The Lost Princess had been found and there was a whole week of endless feasts, celebrations and the meeting of countless nobles. I had my own royal chamber after my coronation. It was almost as large as my house in Lothering. I had my own office and living room, a lounging space where I could greet people. This then led to my bedroom. The bed was so extensive that I thought I could drown in sheets.

Seeing as I was also Champion of Kirkwall and used to the courtesy of clemency, I was allowed to live in the castle with Alistair and Elissa. I was greeted so often with 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Highness' or 'Princess Hales' or 'Princess' that the formality was beginning to drive me insane. I was also a little saddened. I was no longer the simple farm girl, no longer Hales Hawke, I was Princess Hales Theirin.

What was worse was faking the strain between Alistair and me. During the court sessions, I had to appear cold to my own _brother_ and nothing seemed to be coming of it. Anora had never been present and though the nobles told us that they supported Anora for the throne rather than Alistair, few of them actually gave legitimate reasons and even fewer tried to do anything aside from speak.

I had told Alistair late one night over a cheese platter in my room, "This is stupid. The nobles evidently support you. If they didn't, they would do more than simply say so. Whatever Anora's hold, it can't be strong."

We had tried to interview individual nobles but that gave us no real results aside from the obvious – Anora had dirt on each of them, causing them to fear exposure. They told us nothing of use.

Then letters came for me. It was just a tiny slip of paper, folded and sealed. It was a man's rough script, very familiar to me though I knew the script didn't belong to any of my current friends.

"Keep up the act. Trust me, Anora is buying it even if I don't. I guess pretending to be cold just isn't like you. Be careful, Anora has spies in your court."

I ran to Alistair, showing him the letter and comparing it to the ones he had received. The same script, the same parchment; it led to the conclusion that the letters were written by the same person. Alistair pointed out, "The man, if you're actually right about the script being male, seems to know you. Pretending to be cold just isn't like you? That sounds like something only a friend would know, right? Someone you know?"

The script certainly was familiar… but I shrugged, "Don't know." I had a sneaking suspicion about Mikhail but his family wasn't even in Denerim. It didn't make sense.

Elissa suggested, "Maybe it is just someone who reads people well, I don't know that we should worry," but she told Carver, "Keep a close eye on her, will you? We don't actually know if this man is friend or foe."

I turned to Carver in time to see his male smile, eyes darkening as he said seductively, "My pleasure, Elissa."

I couldn't help it, I chuckled reluctantly and shook my head, almost protesting, "If he keeps a closer eye on me, he might as well live in my room."

Alistair shrugged, "I don't want anything bad to happen to you," before turning back to the documents on his desk as Carver stepped to my ear, huskily breathing against me, "Wouldn't mind that, either" in reference to living in my room. When I stared at him with a stern look, though I ruined it by smiling, he shrugged and smiled, telling me, "You look beautiful, by the way."

I leaned gently into him for a moment, unable to resist him. He was right, I realized, it was becoming easier. His hand lightly strummed down my spine and I sighed with contentment before turning back to the matter at hand, just to see Alistair's amused smile and Elissa's eyes sparkling knowingly. I groaned, "Ugh! You guys are repulsive!" As I stalked out the door, I heard my brother and sister's laughter sounding.

Carver and I developed a bit of a friendship over the next few weeks, always talking and laughing. It was something I needed. In the morning, he would greet me with a smile right outside my door and over the day, he joked about nobles, bringing me more smiles to my lips constantly, my stress levels climbing downwards as I relied upon his presence to keep me sane. He was right, it was getting easier.

No one knew we used to be part of the same family. Not here in Ferelden anyway. I wasn't ready for the passion and so, still kept him at arm's length. I wasn't sure I could repeat the experience of his drugging kisses. He made me weak -Carver's hold on me had always been deep, could I give him more power over me?

Surprisingly, most of my friends also stayed in the castle though Varric was constantly in and out to extend his network, Isabela adored the Pearl and was there quite often and Merrill made contact with one of the Dalish clans. Anders and Fenris were a constant in my life, although time in Denerim meant that whilst I was busy playing politics, they had time to engage in other activities. Like sex.

I went to speak with them about various matters and found their bedroom door conveniently ajar. Through the gap, I found them wrapped up in another, fervent kisses being shared. I shook my head, almost laughed, and never spoke to them about it.

Then more letters came.

"Watch out for dinner tonight, Anora is coming. Don't let her go into the kitchens – she's bought poisons recently."

I ensured that guards were posted at every possible entrance into the kitchens. I met Anora, that night. Her eyes were cold and frosty and I knew what Alistair meant when he had once mentioned how icy she was. She had curtsied reluctantly to us, her eyes glowering in hatred but she managed some amount of civility when she spoke to me, "When you have time free, we should speak privately. I find myself curious about you."

I smiled for her charmingly, "Of course. Perhaps dinner some time?"

Alistair had tensed purposely, "I hope you are not planning anything criminal, Anora."

"Please brother," I said to him coldly, apologizing with my eyes, "Not everyone is worthy of such suspicion."

When Alistair had said sharply, "Quieten that tongue, sister!", Anora's eyes had glimmered with triumph. She had bought the act. Good.

During dinner, Carver stayed beside me at all times keeping half an eye on Anora even whilst eating. When she disappeared, I felt Carver stand up beside me. I put my hand on his arm and gestured to Isabela. Discreetly, she followed. As we waited, I whispered in Carver's ear, "Isabela has her little discreet tricks, I don't want Anora seeing you following her. I can't risk that."

Carver's only response was to curl his battle-roughened hands upon mine, linking our fingers together. I brushed my thumb over the back of his hand and the intimacy struck me with comfort and reassurance rather than fear. Carver had been right. Things were easier. He was more mature than me in some ways, I mused, more capable of being candid about his emotions, more honest. My trust and reliance upon him deepened.

Isabela was back before Anora, so Anora remained none the wiser. She gave me a significant look and mouthed the word 'later' to me. When dinner winded down and the guests whittled away, Isabela came to us, her voice actually worried, "The bitch was trying to poison the food! She was heading towards the kitchens but when she found guards, she turned around and tried to look for other entrances."

Then she lifted the incriminating evidence, "She was holding this in her hand before dropping it in her pocket. I stole it and ran."

Anders took the vial and sniffed, "Concentrated deathroot. It will kill or at the very least, make someone stay in bed for a very long time."

Alistair had pursed his lips in concern, "Let's hope the man who sends letters is a friend, that's all I can say."

It certainly seemed that he was a friend. I had made precautions ahead of time and a near disaster was averted. I just hoped he _stayed_ a friend. More letters came within weeks.

"The Marquis Simmon will die at his party. You will be invited but you must stay away from him. Keep to gossiping nobles who can be your alibi. Do not attempt to save him. The Marquis is simply a willing pawn. Anora wants you out of the game."

I followed the instruction to the letter. Escorted by Fenris, we stayed with a chatty old couple who regaled boring stories about their ancestors and how they created some giant machine that could help plough land. Then we danced upon the floor, purposely bumping into another couple such that enough gossip could be spread about the Princess having two left feet. After that, I spoke to Lady Honour, a woman who could not live up to her name in the slightest, finding pride in listing the strings of lovers she had 'tasted'. I cringed but attempted to listen.

Then an ear-piercing scream sounded and all the nobles gasped. An elven servant-girl with blood all over her hands and clothes ran out screaming, "The Marquis is injured! I found him! He's been stabbed."

A noble went to find the Marquis and all of us followed, unwillingly but obligated. I glanced at Fenris and he nodded stiffly, knowing that we had to be careful. We found the Marquis, gasping his last breaths. He pointed at me, "She… she did this," before his breath shuddered out and her eyes closed.

A woman screamed, "Get her! Get her!" and it was a good thing I had chosen to stay with Lady Honour for she was attention-seeking enough to defend me, "Don't be daft! She was with me!"

A man pointed his finger towards me, "She could have had all night to kill him."

Fenris interrupted, "The man would have died from blood loss if he was injured at the beginning of the night. The Princess is innocent."

Still, the nobles demanded a trial. As I stood in court one morning, I was brought from my room escorted by some Ferelden Templar and Carver. Though I was saved by Lady Honour, the elderly couple and other gossipers who had seen Fenris and me dancing and as such, at no point in time was I without an alibi, I felt utterly humiliated. The stares, the whispers, it made my anger rise up within me. I was furious and my mana pulsed within me. Carver drained me repeatedly, knowing that my magic would cost me. The other Templar pretended he didn't know what was happening.

When that was over, another letter came.

"I'm sorry about the trial. I hope you are alright. You looked beautiful in your royal garb, fury in your eyes, I thought you were every bit the Princess. Anora's plan is broken, for now but be careful, she'll try to get close to you."

He was right. Anora made it a point to come to the castle almost every other day, trying to catch me alone. She never did, seeing as Carver was constantly beside me. Anora had complained, "Doesn't the helmet ever leave you alone?"

I laughed, "No, I'm afraid not. But…" I gave her a particularly coy glance, "he keeps secrets… so, speak freely." Carver had cast me a look with raised eyebrows but I grinned unrepentantly and he rolled his eyes. It was a tactic to confuse her. If she and Meredith were communicating, Anora would know Carver was here to spy on me and if he was trusted by the royal family, Anora would either believe that Carver was a traitor to the Order and therefore a threat or someone who could feed Meredith true information. Both options would weigh upon her and hopefully, stall her plans.

Anora had praised, "Womanly wiles are very important… It gets you what you want. So, let you ask you something, what do you want?"

I tilted my head, "A good life, I suppose. Was there a particular something you had in mind?"

She said plainly, "I sense you and Alistair have your differences. I wonder if you are eager for the throne."

I shrugged, "He and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things," and added to mislead her, "there are things…" I sighed in resignation.

Anora told me, "You do understand what being a Grey Warden means, yes?"

I smiled, "He cannot have children. Sooner or later, someone else will need to rule."

I saw a triumphant glint in her eyes and added, "I suppose that will be me since I'm the next in line." Her look of triumph turned to thinly-veiled fury.

I found a note sidled under my bedroom door.

"Anora intends on inviting you to dinner. Don't go. She's suddenly installed many guards in her estate."

Alistair and I started the rumour that I was very sick, disallowing me from attending her dinner party. The good news was that I would be alive. The bad news was that I had to stay in my room – all day. Being cooped in there drove me insane. Carver was allowed to visit but only briefly, so the lack of company drove me even more insane. I got letters from my 'friend' everyday though, each getting progressively longer, accompanied with books, food and wine, each also getting progressively more intimate, much to Carver's chagrin. I never touched the wine, though.

"I've heard that you are ill. Are you truly ill or pretending? I'm hoping for the latter. In any case, I feel the need to at least give you a little entertainment. I hope a little wine and food will cheer you up."

"I found a book in the marketplace and thought of you. I believe you are a woman of adventure and romance, yes? A woman who rides out into open fields, her hair flowing out like a long flag behind her? Has any man ever taken you riding? I hope he had the good sense to take you at night, otherwise, you might be snatched from other his nose by another man. I hope you enjoy yourself, dear lady. I am currently trying to track Anora. She's sending messages to Meredith but how, I cannot be certain. Wish me luck, beautiful lady."

"Pumpkin pastries – made with rich butter and filling pastries. I have found little to help our cause but find myself thinking of you often. What are you doing? What are you thinking? I can't help but imagine you as a satin butterfly trapped in a gilded cage. It is circumstance only and I know you will be freed soon but you were meant to fly. I am not in such a good place myself, the search for Anora's contacts is tiresome. She keeps her loose ends very much tied up but fear not, I will not allow her to harm you."

With each note, I was beginning to suspect Mikhail more and more. I didn't know anyone else who had an obsession with pumpkin pastries the way he did but how to prove his identity? I kept the thoughts silent to myself.

With enough complaints made to Alistair, I was allowed to spend some time in the gardens though I was to be kept in isolation, for I was 'too weak' to see visitors. I hadn't seen anyone but daily letters and roses kept me company.

"You were in the gardens today. I hope you enjoyed your small freedom. More will come soon, when all this is over. I was in the castle, following a potential lead but the servant I thought was a traitor was actually innocent. My consolation was to see you lounging in the grass, hair spread out like a fan about you, a charming smile across your lips. The sunshine made your skin glow, like an inner fire had been placed within you. Satin butterfly, you take my breath away. The flowers are for you, don't butterflies adore flowers?"

I was delightfully flattered by the attention, whether from Mikhail or otherwise. Carver had snarled when he visited, "What kind of creep writes letters like these?"

I had laughed, thumbing the velvet flowers, "Let's ask Varric. Tell him to spread the rumour that the Princess is looking for her secret admirer."

Carver grimaced and though I knew I shouldn't be pleased, his jealousy certainly flattered me, too. He was content to just glare at my flowers, the ferocity of his glowering enough to make them wilt. I covered his eyes with laughter, "Don't you dare! If my flowers begin to so much as droop, I'll know who to blame."

He pulled away his gauntlets, threw them upon the floor in haphazard fashion before taking my hands in his, "What will you give me to buy such a sacrifice?"

The last time he had said something similar, I had been making his favourites after he had shown an ability to display his maturity. Lothering. I was hard pressed not to repeat history. Even through his armour, I could feel his heart pounding, reverberating through him and into me. I lifted my lips to his and brushed a soft kiss against his mouth. Though he didn't respond, his eyes didn't hide the truth. There was lust in his eyes but affection in his voice, "Well, maybe he was right about one thing. Satin butterfly. You give beautiful, butterfly kisses."

One look from him and I felt _consumed_. It was like the relentless heat of Ferelden sun pushing me down and flattening me to the ground. The world would fall away and the ground would dip beneath my feet until nothing held me upright aside from his gaze. Nothing supporting me but his intense blue eyes.

Then he would look away and I was left falling endlessly. How much more power could I give him, I wondered.

His presence was equally like the sun, burning my skin and melting all the way into my bones and soul, warming me until I couldn't shake him away. He made me dizzy from the lack of cool air, the calmness of my sharp edged cynicisms and hurt-induced hatreds suddenly tempered and worn down.

Slowly, cautiously, he held me to his body and I was at a loss as to how to answer the question that burned inside of me. Why did I wait so long to be in his arms?

It would be so easy to fall off the edge. The knowledge was so terrifying. He could _destroy _me.

And suddenly, I wanted him to.

After Varric sent out his spies to search for my secret admirer, I was almost unsurprised to find his next note:

"I hear you have been looking for me? Princess, your wish is my command. I ask that you be patient. Once I know the noble who dares harm the royal family, I will be before you right away."

It took another week before Alistair had a servant summon me to his office with the message that my friend had arrived. Eager to get out of my room, I rushed downstairs. When I threw the door open, my past collided with my present and I cried out in surprise, "Mikhail! What are you doing here?"

Maybe my instincts were not so wrong, after all.

* * *

><p>AN: I know it has been a really long time since I've updated. My apologies. Life has been throwing a lot of new curves at me and writing has been the unfortunate victim. Over the next week, I'll have a few chapters posted up!

Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	17. Secret Ally

**Chapter 17 – Secret Ally**

_ Carver_

"I just don't understand her. We're talking, things are friendly. She even kissed me but the second there's a little more passion, she shies away from me," I complained to both Fenris and Anders. Fenris didn't say anything and Anders told me, "She's afraid of you. What part of that don't you understand?"

"I know, I know!" I maintained, "But it's just me. I know every time we try something, a disaster happens but I just don't understand why she's so... stubborn! She wants it. I see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she leans into me. I just don't get it. What am I doing wrong?" I asked, incredulous to the enigma that was Hales.

Things were good between us. We talked often. I visited her though she never let me venture into her room. She had kissed me. She even shared her letters with me, those blasted 'secret admirer' letters that made my skin crawl and my blood pulse violently in veins. Jealousy was an ugly thing. I had spent every night thinking about her, dreaming about her kiss, about how her hips had been lush against mine. My mind got more and more frivolous with the details. The way I'd take her, the pleasure I'd bring her, the way her eyes would sparkle and glaze over. Thinking about it made me hard enough to smash rocks. Crude, but true.

Anders gave me a look like I was incredibly stupid, "She's a woman. A living and breathing woman, not an unfeeling statue. When things blow up, she's not about to jump into something with you knowing she's going to get hurt. Maker, are you bad at this. When was the last time you courted a woman?"

I snorted, "Courtship? Is that what they call it, making promises you don't intend on keeping?" I laughed mockingly, "Come on Anders, Hales isn't the kind of person who falls of words like that."

"That doesn't mean you can take her for granted and not make her feel special!" he hissed at me. He was right. I was really bad at all this. Hales was special, she needed to know that. I slapped my hand to my face, how could I have forgotten that? She might have been a Princess and a Champion, she might have been a Qunari slayer and sorceress but she was still a woman at heart and she needed to be wooed. I had known that back in Lothering, hadn't I? Had I become stupid in my old age?

Sure, I was giving her time but I still had to show her how deeply my feelings ran. Why hadn't I thought of that?

As Anders shook his head at him, rolling his eyes at my stupidity, Fenris pointed to a wispy ghost, the profile of Hales rushing across the hall, running towards Alistair's office. The three of us exchanged curious glances and as one, rose to follow. In the corridor, we heard her voice pealing out in delight, "Mikhail! What are you doing here?"

The three of us stood by the doorway, watching the interaction. Blonde hair, green eyes, slightly crooked nose, scar on his chin – I recognized him. Mikhail de Silva – some nobleman's son that used to dance with Hales every chance he got at the local festivals. I hadn't realized that the two of them were actually on first name basis though.

His eyes swept over her, too male, too approving and I felt my hands clench. Mikhail bowed, courtly and sophisticated as he reached for her hands, brushing kisses over her knuckles. He spoke with a voice purposely lowered, purposely smooth, "Princess…"

There was embarrassment in her voice, "Mikhail, please! That's not necessary."

Laughter was in his voice, darkened delight and a hint of something intimate that I resented, "As you wish, Hales."

When he said her name, the two looked at each other the way two people stared when they hadn't seen each other in years. She gave him her two hands, resting them in the palms of his hand before telling him, "It's so good to see you… I thought – The archived notes said you were -" Hales eventually broke off with a laugh and embraced him, arms thrown around his neck. I felt my heart drop through the floor, thudding with impact.

Alistair looked between the two of them curiously and interrupted, "So you two know each other?"

Hales blushed and Mikhail spoke gently, after a long glance at her, "We were lovers once. I am Mikhail de Silva."

Lovers! Since when did – Hales had a lover in Lothering? My mind refused to accept that sentence but of course, it was true. She was staring at him, eyes familiar, tender and altogether affectionate. It was also oddly shy and girlish – an expression that I hadn't ever seen with her constantly pushing me away. Mikhail's eyes then passed over to the three of us and his eyes narrowed at me. Alistair looked over and waved us in, whilst Hales rolled her eyes at our tactlessness.

Anders offered as an apology for our intrusion, "Sorry about that. We saw Hales rushing down the stairs and got worried."

Mikhail was barely listening, his eyes were strained upon me, "And these are your friends?" he asked, voice lowered to a predator's growl.

She tensed, sensitive to his change in attitude and I watched her profile as she turned, staring between the two of us, as she offered, "Yes, this is Carver, Anders and Fenris. Men, meet Mikhail de Silva, an old friend of mine."

His eyes flickered back to her for a moment as he questioned, "Your family is in Ferelden?"

She shook her head, "My Father died not long after you left Lothering. Bethany died before we got to Kirkwall and Mother…" her head bowed, "She died recently…"

Mikhail's eyes were sympathetic for a moment, a single speck of time, then his hand slid from her neck to her back, his eyes were calculative and competitive upon mine as he comforted, "I'm sorry for your loss. That couldn't have been easy."

"Life never is," she said to close the subject, an instant dismissal.

His hand stayed upon the small of her back and she did not object, evidently used to his touch. "So… this is Carver, the little home wrecker," his tone was sardonic.

She pulled away instantly, surprised by his rudeness, "Mikhail!"

He ignored her and continued, "I suppose that by now, he knows your past. Last I knew, you were rather reluctant to tell him even the fact that you were adopted."

The bastard was taunting me, trying to convey that he had won her trust before I did. I clenched my jaw as his fingers tapped lightly at her spine before I told him almost impassively, "I've been brought to speed."

Mikhail took her left hand and inspected it meaningfully, "Perhaps," then said without concern, "but you haven't won her yet."

My eyes narrowed and I smiled almost dangerously, "You're right. Yet."

Hales stared between the two of us, her jaw dropped. She spluttered, "Enough! That's – That's totally enough. I've have things to do without the two of you playing some immature contest!"

Mikhail laughed, apologetic as he touched her shoulder, "I'm sorry. I suppose we should go back to discussing matters of state, yes? Did you enjoy the food? I suppose you didn't touch the wine, as usual?"

I grit my teeth as Hales' delighted laugh echoed from her, instantly forgiving. Mikhail was the 'secret admirer' and he was trying to tell me that he knew everything about her. When my fists clenched behind my back, Anders' hand subtly clapped my shoulder, a sign to control myself.

She had forgotten her embarrassment, "I had a feeling it was you. No one else likes those pumpkin pastries the way you do."

She hadn't told me about Mikhail, or her suspicions about the 'secret admirer'. I made a mental note to myself to confront her about the situation.

Then she frowned, "But you're a nobleman… since when did you get into subterfuge? Although… what happened? Your family just disappeared?"

I could sense his fury, his fists opening and closing tightly but despite that, his eyes softened for her, his voice was gentle, "When we heard about the Blight, our family left-"

"I remember," she interrupted, "You came to see me the morning you left for Denerim."

I didn't remember any occasion when the nobleman had visited our home. Jealous fury pierced me instantly. Did she take a lover whilst I was in Ostagar? Had I been played a fool the entire time? I struggled with my emotions, arguing back and forth. Surely Hales would not be cruel as to adopt a plaything whilst we were together. Surely not. I told myself to calm down, this was not a topic I could treat with my usual callousness.

"Yes, our family went to Denerim, became nobles in court. Father found out that Anora had a lover in Cailan's absence and threatened to expose her," he explained, his eyes a little glassy.

"A lover? Is that so bad? I mean, I understand morally that this is wrong but isn't it accepted by now? Maric had many bastards. Alistair, me, a couple others at the very least, right?" she asked.

Alistair answered, "Rowan never knew about us, Hales. If she had…", he trailed off, implication heavy.

Mikhail nodded, "Anora executed my family."

Her gasp echoed, her eyes wide in shock, "No…" she whispered.

"I was in Orlais at the time. When I came home, the house was bloody, bodies everywhere. There was a young boy who was one of the servants' son, I imagine, and he managed to tell me everything that happened." Mikhail went to the window, his arm leaning against the glass, "I left him with a family who promised to look after him and I searched the house. I found documents, I found out about the fact that she had a lover but by the time I made enough noise through some contacts, she had already executed her own lover."

Alistair shook his head, disgusted by what was being revealed and Hales continually shook her head in denial, the line of her mouth dipped downwards into a bow. Seeing her expression, Mikhail touched her jaw lightly, "Do not be unhappy, it has happened. Your tears will change nothing."

I was beginning to find it very difficult to hate the man. He had lost his family like I had and he loved Hales, truly and deeply, just as I did. I could see it in his eyes even though she seemed clueless, folding her arms around him to comfort him. Naïve little girl. Yet, she was older than me, I reminded myself.

He continued eventually, "I began to hunt after Anora, trying to find evidence but it has been difficult to get close. I've been in and out of this castle, in and out of Anora's own estate but most of her documents are locked up in a vault that requires two keys. She and Meredith have written correspondence, transferred and sent via a nobleman here, and all of these are signed and locked in that vault. We could ruin her if we got a hold of those letters but we would need those two keys."

"Who has them?" she asked.

He answered swiftly, "Anora has one that she keeps by her side all the time. The other is with the nobleman, Lord Bosco Desmarais, who sends the documents and letters between Anora and Meredith."

Alistair frowned, "Desmarais? That name is familiar." He scratched his head, "Isn't he the merchant who frequents the brothels and sells Orlesian silk dresses?"

"He is a businessman," said Mikhail, "but also one who offers services such as deliveries. He is paid handsomely."

Fenris suggested, "Couldn't we take both keys then? A rogue such as Isabela would be able to steal those easily."

"Neither key is in my possession because I didn't want to alert anyone. One is with Anora, the other with Desmarais. As of yet, the location of Anora's key eludes me," he told us.

Hales shook her head in confusion, "So how do you know he actually has it?"

"He meets with her regularly, he's also the one who gives her the letters. It doesn't make sense for it to be anyone else."

I interrupted, "Forgive the intrusion but what are the contents of those letters? I'm more concerned with what the two of them actually talk about. Meredith's been recruiting a lot of Templars, is she planning on attacking us?"

He shook his head, "I can't be sure. I just know she receives them and then slides them under the vault door. I have yet to be given time to read letters as she fumbled around the vault to occasionally organize her letters."

Anders suggested, "Maybe we should invite the man up for dinner or something, socialize and get close, see what information we can dig up."

"No," countered Mikhail, "he isn't a powerful noble in court, it won't make sense for him to be invited. We cannot arouse suspicion."

We needed something that would arouse the attention of Desmarais without making him suspicious. The man did sell Orlesian silk…I offered, "We could ask Varric. He's got his fingers in a lot of pots, doesn't he? Have him start the rumour that the Princess wants better clothes or something. Hold some kind of party or competition that invites all silk sellers, promise lots of money or servants or something. That'd get his attention, wouldn't it?"

Hales looked at me with something akin to surprise, "That's a great idea, Carver!" She was impressed and I teased, "Why the tone of surprise?"

She laughed and turned to Alistair, "What do you think?"

"Go for it," was his answer, "not like we have any other alternatives."

Varric was notified, he started the rumour that the Princess threw a tantrum one morning, seething over the fact that the silk was of poor quality and chafed her skin. Then there was a royal proclamation. The merchant with the best silk would be offered a lot of gold as well as being made the Princess' personal dressmaker. Being used by royalty carried heavy weight, many joined the competition and much to our delight, so did Desmarais.

In the process of organizing the function, Hales spent a lot of time with Mikhail. The two seemed to be mostly friendly but the way he looked at her made me realize that he intended to court her seriously. I had to move quickly before she fell back into the arms of an ex-lover.

And she might just do something stupid like that. Mikhail was a dangerous rogue, yes, but he was a gentleman. A lapdog. Someone safe for her to be with.

Unlike me.

_Hales_

Mikhail… how does one describe a man such as he? I could speak of his handsome features, the noble gait, his gentlemanly behaviour or his smooth charm. I could talk about his interests, his gentle and compromising nature, his flexibility and lack of stubbornness. I could praise his achievements, his abilities in both weaponry and music.

But he wasn't Carver.

Over the week, as the two of us planned ceaselessly for the competition and the afterparty, it became obvious to me that he was still interested. His smiles were warmer than appropriate, his eyes appraised me, and now and again, he even made a point to touch my hand in a lover-like way. And because I could feel Carver's eyes burning holes into my back, I asked Alistair to give him tasks to keep him away from Mikhail.

But he wasn't Carver.

To say that Carver was not pleased was like saying Alistair loved me only a little. It was the understatement of the entire Dragon Age. The first moment he could corner me alone in my lounge, he pounced with questions, "Mikhail de Silva?" he asked with accusation, his metal armour shaking and clanking about in his disapproval, eyes fired up with self-indulgent anger.

I tried not to smile, "What about him?"

"Don't give me that crap, Hales. What happened between the two of you?" he had thrown at me.

I sighed, rolling my eyes, "We used to be lovers. What more do you want to know?"

"You slept with him," he countered.

I slapped a hand to my forehead, "Really?" I asked him with incredulous tones, "You want to have a go at me for having a love life when you mucked around with Peaches in the barn? At the very least, I only ever slept with him. You slept with half of Lothering's female population, Kirkwall's Blooming Rose and anyone else you fancied, you hypocrite! Not to mention, it was before you and I got involved anyway!"

Carver's eyes dimmed, calmed and I sensed the source of his jealousies, "Did you think I slept with him whilst you were in Ostagar?"

He didn't answer me, which silently answered my question, but asked instead, "Did he please you?"

"We cared for one another and he was always very kind to me but we always knew it wouldn't go anywhere. He was a nobleman. I was a peasant. _And,_" I added, "He always knew of my feelings for you." I ended sedately.

"He was kind to you?" he repeated, "All calm and no passion then. Well, at least he knows his place."

I glared at him, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

Carver took two large strides towards me, warm hands gripping my hips to pull me into his body, "It means that he is correct in calling me a home wrecker. If there is to be a home between the two of you, I will tear it down _brick by brick_," he emphasized with hisses in my ear, lips touching the shell.

I shivered, unable to stop my responses. He continued, "He's your _safe_ option, the man you can be with but will never burn for. You'll be content," his teeth nipped at my ears, making my breath hitch, "but you'll never be _satisfied_, Hales."

I tried to protest hotly, rude words at the forefront of my mind when he seared me with deep kisses, arms wrapped tightly around my back, fingers tracing along my spine, "Remember Viscount's Keep, Hales? Did _he_ ever make you that crazed for release?"

Of course not and Carver bloody well knew it, the smug bastard.

"Sex isn't everything, Carver." It was the easiest line to throw at him and the hollowest seeing as he was asking me for much more than sex.

"I'm well aware," he said, "but we're not having sex right now." He tilted my head back a little to stare into my eyes, "I'm making love to you right now. I don't need to be hips deep inside you to be making love to you. _He_ can't give you that."

I found myself breathless, caught off guard by his words. Yes, that was part of why I adored being with Carver. He could make me feel complete with just one touch. He made love to me without making love to me at all. That was exactly right; the perfect description.

"As for the other girls I've been with, I gave them only my body. I wanted you," he said simply, "I was looking for _you_ in the other girls I was with. And no matter how tired and limp I was, I couldn't feel satisfaction." He kissed me deeply, tongue flickering over my lips before continuing, "It doesn't matter that you've given your body to Mikhail."

"Then why the jealousy?" I asked him.

"I'm jealous because you gave him your secrets, a piece of your mind and soul, before you even considered giving it to me. I want you, Hales. Every part of you. Not just your body. I don't want another man to have a hold on you," his words were roughly delivered before he confessed a little helplessly, "and the idea that he has a hold upon your mind and soul irritates the fuck out of me."

"He just knew I was adopted. That was it."

"That's enough, isn't it? And you wouldn't tell me about him being your secret admirer either," he sulked a little.

I looked at him, wanting to comfort him, "You know everything now and you should know that he called you a home wrecker because he knew how much I cared for you. He knew he could never truly have me. As for my suspicions, what did it matter? If it was Mikhail, then the notes were from a friend and if it wasn't, then the notes were still good warnings to use. What does it matter now?"

Carver sighed, hands cradling my face, "I know everything now but do I have everything? I'm trying to be patient, Hales, but with Mikhail around…" he shook his head for a moment, thumb resting along my cheek, cupping my face, voice uncertain, "I know how much you want me, how small a threat he should pose to me –"

"Wow, real cocky." I interjected, more than just a little surprised he could speak of Mikhail in such an unaffected fashion.

"Shush. I haven't finished. Just listen," he demanded sternly, "This isn't some pissing contest between two men. This is me knowing you, having a pretty good understanding of what you're like despite all your secrets over the years. I know you'd be stupid enough to actually try being with him because you know you _won't _be completely happy with him."

"I'm not stu-"

He spoke over me, finishing with a vulnerable confession, "_That _is why Mikhail being around threatens me, _terrifies_ me. I can't take no for an answer anymore," his lyrium reached out to me, exposing my inner need to touch him, "I will have you, Hales, every single piece of you." Carver promised and threatened simultaneously, hands sliding down my neck to thumb down my collarbones, the sides of my breasts, and finally my hips before walking away to finish off whatever other duties he had.

"I know," I said quietly. Judging by the way his step faltered, I knew he had heard.

Mikhail lacked the passionate nature that was in Carver, he lacked the ability to stand firm and fight with me. I knew that Mikhail would be easy to be with. I wanted to want him. I would never love him too deeply and he could never hurt me too much. Carver did know me, inside and out.

I remembered the days when Mikhail used to kiss me. There was pleasure, sweetness but there was no spark. Perhaps that's why we knew, back in Lothering, that the two of us could only be together so long. The same could be said of our lovemaking. There was love between us but his eyes… they never held that kind of desire for me. He never _needed_ me. I could arouse him and he could make love to me but there was nothing life-altering about our love. It was simple and calm, the way a stream trickled.

No, he wasn't Carver.

Carver was the kind of man who broke my world with a touch, burned me with a kiss and made me mindless with just one look. I wasn't sure what my obsession was with Carver or even why the dams holding back my feelings hadn't broken yet. All I knew was that he was dangerous to love, for I would fall forever but I had to wonder whether being with Carver actually mattered because I would fall forever, with or without him.

The silk competition had no unexpected results. It was rigged, after all. I was told that each merchant had piece a sample of their wares and impartial judges looked upon the quality. Those so called impartial judges were actually bribed to create anxiety in the contestants, making it seem like there was a close call before announcing Desmarais as the winner.

The group planned some more for the after party. Knowing that the Lord was a known womanizer, Elissa basically told me, "Use that charming smile of those, stare at him the way you look at Carver and before you know it, he'll be in that room with you, we'll pounce and it'll all be fine." She seemed to think that the easiest way to interrogate him was to charm him into a room, alone. I didn't share her confidence but I could attempt to seduce.

When the night of the after-party came, I was dressing in my room. Elissa had a new dress made for me. It was jade green silk, an incredibly daring dress with the neckline wrapping at the top of my breasts and dipping behind me to my lower back. There was a strap, a long silk piece that was pinned at the neckline and wrapped around my neck like a halter but it was loose, meant to drape enticingly along my spine. It offered very little security and to compensate, the dress was made tightly, snug around my chest, waist and hips.

At my vanity, I looked at the blue crystal, the amulet Carver had given me, that was hung along the posts of the wood. I touched it reverently. No matter how many pieces of jewellery I had, no matter how much more expensive and grand the pieces got, Carver's amulet would always hold a special place in my heart. Smiling wistfully, I looked at the emerald necklace that Alistair had sent me. It was a choker, dazzling emeralds and diamonds sparkling up at me. I fastened it around my neck when a knock sounded at my door.

It was light, gentle and I smiled, "Come in Alistair."

A polite voice called, "It's Mikhail."

"Oh!" I cried out embarrassed and quickly went to the door, opening it with a rushed swing, "I'm sorry. Alistair usually comes up when we have parties."

Mikhail was also dressed in green, forest green, like his eyes. He had his blonde hair tied up, a few wisps of hair sliding down the side of his face, "Alistair mentioned something like that."

I smiled at him, "You do clean up nice but I'm sure you knew that already."

Mikhail laughed, "And you look lovely, Princess," and before I could react, his lips found mine, his arms around my waist. I tried to respond but I couldn't. It was all wrong. Mikhail kissed like he was prepared for me to move away, held me like he was keeping a way out. My hands went to his chest and not able to take his affection, I pressed gently. He knew straight away what I wanted.

I never had to push, never had to shove. He could read my inability to give myself to him.

I apologized, "I'm sorry, Mikhail but…"

He had smiled, understanding on his face, "I'm not Carver. I understand. I just had to try." When I looked at him with sadness on my face, he had kissed the back of my hand, "It's alright." Then he offered his arm like a gentleman and I slid my hand in his elbow, feeling awful as we made our way to the ballroom.

The party was already in full swing, every noble socializing before the main event. Mikhail took me about, allowing me to greet my subjects before whisking me towards the refreshment table where Fenris stood. Once he was satisfied that I was safe, he went to the other end of the ballroom, intending on scouting for Desmarais. Fenris told me, "You look morose. I fail to see how you can charm a man looking like that."

I glared at him, sarcasm marring my voice, "Thank you, Fenris. I really needed that."

"Then vent your grief now such that our mission is not compromised," he said strategically.

I rolled my eyes, "Mikhail kissed me."

His commentary was dry as Kirkwall winters, "You've been kissed a lot lately."

I was insulted, hissing at him, "I have not! It was just –"

A low and slightly rough voice interrupted me, "I tend to agree. It's certainly one more than I'd like."

I groaned and turned around, "Carver, stop eaves –," my voice died. Handsome couldn't even come close to describing him. Unlike other nobles who wore jackets and silk shirts beneath, he had chosen an indigo vest with a white shirt within, open at the collar in a rough edged sophistication. The vest had been tailored to him, clipped to emphasize his broad shoulders, chest and the ruthless line towards narrow hips. Black breeches covered his legs and left little to the imagination, the strength of his legs obvious though without being_ completely_ obscene. Boots cuffed to his knees. My eyes roamed over him, stunned, "Carver –" I stuttered, "you look very charming."

He had smiled, a man's smile, his eyes taking in my form. Taking my hand, he twirled me in a circle, under his arm like we were dancing and I giggled, "What are you doing?" This kind of romantic gesture wasn't like him.

He answered simply, "I wanted to see you," and before I could react, he had pulled me irresistibly towards the dance floor. Smooth and sure, I was in his arms, his feet stepping along the rhythms of a waltz with casual ease. Carver complimented, "I don't think I've ever seen you quite so striking. Not that I really needed to tell you that." His hand slid to my waist, fingers comfortably spanned out across my bare skin.

I was taken aback by his smoothness and gaped. When had Carver learnt all this? Dancing? "How?" I managed to ask, "Since when did you get into all this…?" I trailed off, gesturing around us.

"All this poncy frivolity?" he finished off my sentence with a wry quip, "I wasn't about to let you dance with any other man looking like that, Hales. Well," he amended, "aside from Desmarais for the obvious reasons."

I couldn't stop gaping at him, mouth opening and closing as I stared up at him. I wasn't sure whether to be utterly charmed or just exasperated that he had learnt to dance to keep men off me.

His next words didn't help matters, "If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to scandalize the nobles by making love to you right here on the dance floor." I made a strange squeaking sound, finding him appealingly insufferable. He didn't even bother lowering his voice!

"Although," he said in disapproving tone whilst his fingers found my spine, dragging down towards my lower back, "I don't know if I want to let those nobles feast their eyes on you. That dress is sinful even by my standards and I'm hardly the paragon of all virtues."

I managed to find my voice, "It's… that's… That's the point. I'm meant to seduce. Elissa said that I was meant to… well, you get the idea." So caught off guard, I failed to even point out that Carver wasn't simply '_hardly_ the paragon of all virtues' so much as he was simply brash, completely rude and often, as vulgar as he pleased.

He said blandly, "Desmarais doesn't stand a chance then." Then his hand on my back pulled me in closer, our bodies almost touching. My hand that was on his shoulder curled around his back, almost embracing him close and our cheeks brushed. I heard him inhale in my ear and his voice in my mind.

_I love the way you smell… jasmine, night orchids and magic. I want to touch you. I want to see if you're as silky underneath the dress as the material itself. _

My breath hitched. _I… I don't think it's possible for skin, or anything for that matter, to be as smooth as silk. _

Rough laughter echoed in my mind. _I don't know about that. Your mouth running along my body would be the finest silk I could ever dream of. Though_, he added with a slight grin, pulling back so I could see the mischief in his eyes, _I can think of one place on you that can get delightfully rough and pebbled._ A stream of lyrium lightly scraped my nipples and I gaped at his audacity.

_Carver!_

_I'll say it again. Keep looking at me with those wide eyes and pouting lips and I will make love to you right here on the dance floor. _

_You… You wouldn't dare. We've got –_

_Wouldn't I, Hales? _ Lyrium trickled right through my body making my body flush and warm. I felt slick heat slide into my core. _Don't you think I'm capable of sliding my hands underneath that dress? I think I'd find you all hot and ready, slick and wet over my fingers. I've always wanted to find out exactly how you taste._

_Carver…_ I was caught between two very extreme worlds. One was the need to fulfil my duty in subterfuge, the other to lose myself in the arms of the man I loved. I struggled desperately within myself.

_Shhh… it's alright. Just relax. I want to cheer you up, not stress you out. You looked so upset, I needed to take your mind off it._

_Oh… You did that a little too well, I think. About Mikhail –_

Carver sent me only feelings of reassurance, almost no hint of jealousy at all. Almost.

_I know. You don't need to explain. I know. _

_Do you?_ I stared up into his eyes, searching for answers.

_I know that you wouldn't look so guilty if you actually loved him. I know where your heart lies. _

It was so simple, so easy, so wonderfully _Carver_ to completely brush aside the issue like it didn't exist that all I could feel within me was a sharp sense of relief and gratitude.

_Just let me hold you for a while, Hales. I've never danced with you before. I don't want to let you go just yet._

He was too sweet to me, too good for me and I whispered back into his mind.

_We have time, Carver… Hold me closer, I don't want to think about anything aside from you. Not just yet. _

I felt his smile press against my temples, his hand easily gliding me closer into his body. I closed my eyes, humming along with the music in his ears, swaying side to side in one secluded corner of the dance floor until he whispered, "Desmarais is watching you."

I sighed in exasperation, pulling back to remind myself of my duty of seduction and answered with weariness, "Is he? Now what?"

Carver chuckled at my reluctance, "You seduce him. Smile flirtatiously, bat your eyelashes, giggle in a very high pitch."

"What?" I stuttered, "That's – That's no help. He's not going to fall for that. He's used to brothel girls. Don't they do something a little more brazen?"

He pulled me into a semi-private alcove where Desmarais could see us, "Alright, we'll do this another way."

"How –" I managed to get out before he crashed our lips together, teeth clinking, holding me with passionate violence. Here it was. Here was that crashing wave of heat and need, desire and want all thrown into one. Carver's fingers delved deep into my hair, his tongue slid smoothly into my mouth and when I all but threw my arms around him, he wrenched himself from me and walked away without another look.

Confusion pulled at me, what was he playing at? I walked dumbly back towards the refreshment table, lost in my thoughts. A posh Orlesian voice echoed beside me, "I must say that if Your Royal Highness had kissed me, I would never dare to dream of walking away."

In a split-second, I knew what Carver had done. He had done for me what I couldn't do myself, seduce a man into wanting a woman more by making her seem downtrodden. I turned, shooting Desmarais my most charming smile and said with a careless shrug, "Oh?"

The Lord laughed, lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth showing. He was old enough to be my Father! A receding hairline, greys in his dark hair, murky brown eyes and a smile that nearly made me shiver. He was impressed, "I see you bounce back quite easily, Your Highness."

I took a grape from the plates that passed and popped it into my mouth, "Men are easy enough to find, my Lord. If he doesn't want me, I'll find someone who will," before turning away, walking towards a more quiet area. He followed, his voice echoing, "And just who will you find?"

I tried to giggle, girlish and flirty, though to my ears, it only sounded nervous, "Someone who has enough experience to please me, maturity enough to know that I am not attainable for long and won't plead with me later for more."

I found a private terrace, throwing the windows open wide like I owned the place. I leaned on the balcony banister, exposing my back to him as he laughed, almost worldly in sound, "You are sounding more and more like my kind of woman."

I sneered at him, almost disdainful, "Don't get attached. I am not yours to have for long."

I was disgusted. I wanted to vomit, to clean myself, to rub at my limbs with a washcloth until the proverbial slime let off.

I felt his presence behind me, his hand at the base of my neck, "I don't want a long time. A night would suffice."

I felt cheap. Like a slut for sale. I didn't want him to touch me. I hated the coolness of his fingertips, it made me shiver with fear rather than want. This wasn't Carver. I needed his endless warmth instead.

Pushing his hand aside, I turned around to face him, my back against the cold marble, leaning backwards to show him the lines of my body when I was horizontal, "Would that suffice? I don't like meaningless attachments. Follow only if you can manage that."

He gestured to the doors, "Lead on."

Success was like laughter bubbling in my throat but it came with a sick taint that made me want to puke. I went to the room as planned, certain that Carver would have rallied the others by now. When I pointed to the door, I eased it open and gestured for him to go into the darkness. His smile was lecherous as he passed me. I slipped into the room, closed the door with a click.

Candles then burned, the candelabra that hung from the ceiling were lit thanks to Anders' magic and Desmarais realized that we were not alone. I leaned against the door as he faced the group. From the left to right stood Fenris, Elissa, Alistair, Mikhail, Anders and Carver all surrounding him. He turned to me, "What is this?"

Mikhail grabbed him by the collars, demanding loudly, "The vault key. Where is it?"

He tried to deny it, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Fenris laughed, mocking him and said simply, "You can either pretend that you're not helping Anora and we'll throw you into the dungeons or you can keep your life."

Mikhail added, "We know that you're helping Anora smuggle letters to Meredith. We know that the letters Anora receives are placed in a vault, at the bottom of her estate. It needs two keys, where is the other key?"

The Lord spat at him, taunting him, "I know you. You're that de Silva brat Anora never got her hands on! You're just some unwanted Ferelden dog!"

He threw Desmarais against a wall, his knuckles met the Lord's face in a fierce punch. I winced but tried to maintain my cruelty, "There's no need for that, Mikhail… there are other ways of making a man talk."

This was business. I had no time to think about my emotions, about the wrongness of the situation but bile was creeping up my throat and the scene of Quentin's death kept flashing in my mind, like a contrast to the situation before me.

I gestured to Anders, almost out of breath from the fear, and he grinned, lightening at his fingertips. When he strode towards Desmarais, the Lord threatened, "I'll scream!"

Carver's reply was acerbic, "Scream all you like. We get to enjoy it. No one else can hear it."

His words made my stomach drop. All this… for what? Violence was one thing. This was just uncalled for. I thought deliriously for a moment that actually, it was called for. Otherwise, we wouldn't be doing it.

The excuse was no comfort to me. I felt like one of those desperate criminals, willing to do whatever it takes to achieve a goal. It was underhanded and dirty. Quentin's blood stained red on my hands but when I blinked, my hands were clean.

Anders' hands lowered near the man's breeches, "See lightening is an interesting thing," he said in a clinical voice, "it can close wounds, it can stop bleeding, it can pleasure, it can also cause pain," a small shock reached the man and a high-pitched squeal echoed. My hands trembled. I hated this. Torture was never necessary. Then Anders continued like an indifferent, professional healer, "It can even unman someone, turn them sterile, impotent, limp… that'll put a stop to those brothel days, won't it?"

There was a fearful sob, an odd stink in the air as Anders commented, dry and cutting, "Wonderful. He's urinated in his pants. Let's try for sterile."

"Stop, stop!" cried Desmarais, "The key is hidden beneath my bedroom floor. I promise it is there! Don't make me impotent!"

I slapped a hand to my face, feeling drained. I hated this. I hated the begging. It wasn't right to take away a man's dignity. I told Anders, "Stop," and strode towards the Lord. He looked at me with fearful eyes and I asked, "Do you want to keep your life or do you want to be thrown into prison for treason?"

He managed, "Let me – let me keep my life. Please, Your Highness."

"Then you will listen carefully," Elissa ordered, "You will order your servant to return home and retrieve the key. The next time a letter arrives for Anora, you will have your servant contact us as well as Anora. You will perform your task as you normally do, giving her the letter and then telling her that I have told you how we suspect Anora and tell her that we know that a nobleman is helping her. Tell her a convincing story, anything that will make her fearful enough to attempt to destroy whatever is in that vault. Go with her, make sure she goes to the vault. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Yes!" he cried out.

I motioned to Fenris, who threw him some clothes. I concluded, "I will not allow you to leave until the key is with us and you will take some of my guards with you. If you attempt to flee…" I trailed off with meaning. He understood.

As he changed, went to find his servant, we watched in the background. It was almost over, I thought. The night was almost over. This nightmare of a night. Seeing my expression, Alistair held me for a moment, kissed the crown of my head and comforted, "I know you hated that. I did, too but just try to remember that we wouldn't have actually killed him."

I sighed out, "I know."

Elissa wrapped an arm around my shoulder, her eyes were worried and sympathetic, "Go up to bed. We can handle the rest from here. I'm sure you're emotionally drained, sister."

These were the benefits of family. They spoiled you, loved you and looked after you even when you were supposed to do your duties. I kissed her and Alistair's cheek, hugged both Anders and Fenris, touched Mikhail's arm in comfort and whispered a soft goodnight to Carver.

Then I scampered to my room, needing the comfort of warmth and safety rather than the cruelty of the night. Anything to be away from that feeling of treachery, of being cheapened by exposing my flesh, of needless underhanded tactic – everything in the night.

* * *

><p>AN: As promised another chapter! Please R&R! Let me know if the emotional build up is any good!

Love, Ann


	18. Secret Love

**Chapter 18 – Secret Love**

_Carver_

The night had been too ugly for Hales, that much I could tell. She hated threatening and torture, especially after everything that went down with Quentin. It was a good thing she had never been in the Gallows. I had seen the torture of mages, innocent people, Hales would never have survived. When she killed, it was out of necessity, not cruelty and tonight had truly toed the borderline of what she was willing to do. I didn't like seeing her darting off to her room like that, as though fleeing the ghost of her guilt.

I paced as we waited and gnashed my teeth only moments after the idiot had told his servant to go home and retrieve the key. I wanted to take my leave but said nothing, knowing that there could be a slight risk that the Orlesian made a run for it. Duty and responsibility stopped me from saying anything. It was Mikhail who took pity on me, "Go to her. We can handle things here."

I couldn't believe what he was suggesting and blinked at him. Wasn't this the guy who was after Hales? He smiled, almost miserable and self-deprecating as he said, "Go to her. You are the one she needs." I looked towards Alistair and he nodded, tilting his head up in the direction of Hales. If the comment hadn't struck me so blindly, I would have felt a little embarrassed at how transparent I had become.

_You are the one she needs_. _You are the one she needs._ Hadn't I always known that? My heart pounded in my chest as the inverse reverberated in my mind. _She's the one I need. She's the one I need._ Why hadn't I ever told her that? Why hadn't I told her everything she probably knew but needed to hear?

It was like taking a hammer to my gut, a solid punch to wake me up. When Anders had mentioned that I hadn't been doing the right thing in terms of Hales, I had been thinking that maybe I needed to be more obvious about my affections. It was stupid. _I _was stupid. Hales already knew I wanted her.

She didn't know I needed her.

I thought I was better than Hales when it came to dealing with my emotions but in some ways, I was equally as clueless. I had so much left to learn. Why had I always taken her for granted? Why had I always just taken what I wanted but never really offered what I would give in return? Why had I always seduced her body when what I needed was the sweetness of her heart?

I was breathless from the sprint, panting and heaving in front of her chambers. Her door to her living room had been flung open and left there in neglect. She had evidently rushed into her sanctuary, needing comfort and safety after tonight. I closed the door and stared at the lounge space, darkened without sunlight, a few embers in the fireplace. I had been here. It had been as far as she had let me in. My nights had been spent alone in my own bed, a room almost a world away. I stood at the threshold to her bedroom, my hand at her door. It was like a benchmark and now, I was trying to hurdle over the next one.

I knocked.

No one answered. All I could hear was my own thudding heart, my own breath. Nerves made my entire body shake.

My hand went to the knob, the metal cooling my palms. Slowly, I turned it and the door slid open. My first step into her bedroom seemed almost _cathartic._ The room was glowing gently with firelight and little else. The roaring fire was welcoming, its glow and heat seemed to flame out of the grate and chase away the chill that had settled through the night. Crushed lavenders lay in a small vase by her vanity and my eyes fell upon a familiar amulet, the crystal I had given her.

She had kept it, I realized in surprise, but she hadn't worn it. That thought made my heart sink a little.

One small, heeled shoe lay on the floor, almost upside down in disregard. Then I saw a lump on the bed. I could barely recognize her shape amidst the furs. In the glowing light, I could just scarcely make out green silk. She hadn't undressed at all, throwing herself into bed without thought. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that the blankets seemed vast, the bed almost too cavernous with the drapes and sheets for her lonely, little body. My heart ached in my chest. I needed to hold her, to protect her _and I had never even told her_ _I loved her_.

I closed the door and called out to her, "Hales…"

Her voice was weak, soft and light, "Yes, Carver?"

How to start, I wondered to myself. How to begin to tell her. Like a coward, I asked instead, "Are you alright?"

She sighed into her sheets, silk rustling as she sat up, one of her feet dangling over the edge of the bed, still covered by her evening shoes, "I'm fine."

She sure didn't sound fine. I offered, "You didn't do anything wrong. You know we wouldn't have actually hurt him. At most, we'd have thrown him into prison and it isn't like he wasn't committing treason already."

"I hated it," she confessed, "I hated the way he looked at me, hated the way I pretended to be interested, hated the way I practically sold my flesh to him…" And there was the truth - she felt cheapened by her actions, though necessary at the time.

I wasn't sure how to comfort her but went to kneel at her feet, carefully sliding the shoe from her foot. I said, "You didn't… You didn't let him see anymore than you would otherwise have."

She murmured, "I kept seeing Quentin when we were in the room. The cruelty… I almost saw blood on my hands. I felt cruel, I felt sick. I just -"

I hushed her gently, "Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. Nothing at all."

Hales nodded as my fingers found her toes, my thumbs pressing at the firm pads of flesh underneath. She sighed in acquiescence and relief.

I went to other topics, "You kept the amulet."

"I would never throw it away," she said simply.

My thumb pressed at the arch of her foot and she mewled in gratitude, "Oh that's wonderful. Those shoes hurt my feet."

I massaged the flesh there, keeping my pressure light but deep. I asked her, "Did you ever wear that amulet?"

"I never took it off until the day we left Kirkwall."

My chest constricted, all the love I felt for her unrestrainable. My heart swelled. Everything about her made me love her - Her kindness, her goodness, her sweetness, her angry screams and insults fuelled my love. Even the fact that she could get along with life just fine and dandy without me – maybe that's why I wanted to prove so much to her.

My hands slid up to her shins, kneading the tight muscles that I found, hardened after a night of balancing upon heels the size of a coin. I revealed, "I always had something to prove, you know that. I always wanted to do something worthwhile, even Father knew that."

She nodded, watching me with curious eyes. I smiled almost mockingly at myself, "I was such an idiot. I joined the Templars, thinking I could protect you when I should have been home. I always took the easy way out, always wanted to do the things that would grant me a name, a fortune or something like that. I woke up one morning and realized how stupid it was."

Her voice was kind, a soothing whisper, "It's not wrong to want to make something of yourself."

"I realized what was actually worthwhile, Hales," I lifted her dress to her knees and pressed my lips to her shin, "Having your faith in me is worthwhile, having you believe in me is worthwhile… all my life, I've been wanting to run out of your shadow and when I woke up, I realized that being in your shadow, protecting you, being with you, it was the only place worth being in." Then I laughed, "And I should have known. I should have known right from the day you gave me Father's letters. You said to me, 'this gift is my faith in you' and I remember that feeling that coursed right through me, unstoppable and overwhelming but I was too much of an idiot to really care."

She was silent, not knowing what to say and I took her hand in mine, rising up a little to kiss her wrists, feeling her pulse behind the skin, "Remember that conversation we had when we were kids, that you said you only needed one man. I realized that it didn't matter if the whole world didn't see me as worthy – I only ever needed one person to think I was worthy. Only ever needed you."

"Carver…" she whispered, eyes glassy, "I…"

"Let me finish," I begged of her, my eyes locking with hers. She swallowed and nodded. So I whispered out, my voice almost breaking in my throat, "And one more morning, I woke up and I realized that it wasn't ever as simple as you needing me in your life. I needed you, too. Life wasn't worth living if you weren't in it. It was just that simple."

Then I rose to her, one hand leaning on the bed, taking my weight as I towered over her body, the other caressing her face in a gentleness that I didn't realize I possessed and said with curiosity in my voice, "But I never told you that. I took what I wanted from you but never offered anything in return. I demanded your answers, your presence, your surrender but I never told you what I'd give you. I didn't do anything for you until we came for Ferelden. I should have courted you, wooed you and instead I took you for granted. I pushed you into a corner, to make you come to me but-"

She tried to excuse my actions, "You were trying to give me space so I could work out my feelings."

"Maybe… that was certainly part of it but now, I'm waking up again. I'm waking up again, Hales and I'm wondering why in the world I never told you how much I love you," I murmured out incredulously.

Her breath caught. She hadn't expected that, it was a surprise to her, and I asked her, heartbreakingly sad, "Why haven't we ever spoken those words to one another? We've known it for years, haven't we? I've known it since Lothering. You used to look at me with love far more than a sister should possess. You still look at me like that. Even right now," I ran my thumb down the line of her cheeks, staring into the chocolate browns glimmering with love, "And you know that I care for you, that I love you. So why didn't I ever say it to you? Why haven't we ever spoken those words?"

I needed the words, I realized. She needed them, too. Some things couldn't be left unspoken. Some things needed to be displayed, exposed. Some things couldn't just be based on touch. Some things needed to be said.

Hales' fingers were trembling as they grazed my face, the back of her hands almost cool to the touch, soothing my inner nerves. I muttered, low and husky, "I love you, Hales," before frankly begging, "Tell me you love me… I've been waiting for those words almost all my life."

She pulled me completely upon her, lying back into the middle of her furs whilst her sensual murmurs echoed in my ears, "I love you… I love you, Carver."

I groaned out in relief against her neck, my entire body shuddering out in relief. Continually murmuring her words of love, I pulled back to kiss her lips with meandering slowness, passions simmering. Her scent was still sweet, flowery and unique but more like summer rains and magic than jasmine. Mouth soft, yielding and her sighs for more lured all the need I had ever felt for her out to the forefront, crashing right into me, both soothing and jangling my nerves.

Loud thumps echoed against her wooden floor as I toed my boots off and she smiled, body quivering beneath mine in anticipation. I kissed her again, wanting to explore rather than plunder, give rather than take. Slim arms came around me, dreamy and slow. I cradled her, sliding my arms behind her back, holding her weight on my forearms. When she moved her head to the side, needing breath, my lips fell to her neck and she mewled, a keening whimper that tugged at something inside my chest.

I felt my burgeoning arousal, felt the heavy weight between my legs and crawled off her, upon my knees at the foot of the bed. She leaned onto her elbows, lifted herself to her knees in a sensuous move, the hem of her silk dress riding up to her thighs. Her fingers tugged at the bottom of my vest and my hands stopped her, questioning her in the silence. Hales responded by lifting the vest anyway, throwing it away to one corner of the room, uncaring to the wrinkled silk as she told me, "Six years, Carver… I've wanted you for almost six years…"

Through lust-fogged thoughts, I managed to work out, "Sixteen, huh?" I scraped my teeth lightly at her jaw-line, "You've been lusting for my body since you were sixteen? Lusting after a slowly filling out fifteen year old? Robbing the cradle much?" I teased.

Her feminine fist slugged my shoulder as she said defensively, "You were practically man-sized anyway!"

I covered her lips with my own before muttering, "I won't make you wait." My hands tore at the buttons on my shirt. I didn't want to wait either and growled, "I've wanted you for far too long."

Her hands deftly pushed the shirt from my shoulders, lips grazing at my collarbones. Hands slipped down my back and I pressed kisses to every inch of exposed skin I could find. My body was in knots and the hunger roared in my blood. Light fingertips grazed my stomach, teasing nails dancing along the top of my breeches. My hands went to her breasts, her nipples hardening, pressing up into my palm through the silk. As she whimpered, her curiosity got the better of her and I felt her hand dip into my breeches, nearly-there brushes teasing my erection. I murmured her name, throwing my head back at the sensation of her intimate touch. More, I thought, I needed more of her touch. Without ceremony, I pushed my breeches down, kicking them off my shins.

As her eyes roamed, my mind registered that I was naked and she _wasn't_. A light smirk tugged one corner of her lips as she asked, "Don't you wear smalls?" I flicked her nipples through the silk, bending my head down to take one between my teeth with exquisite care, barely able to find purchase upon the material if not for her peaking nubs. She trembled as I countered, "Don't you?"

Her answer was breathy, "The dress didn't allow for smalls of any kind." The idea of her wandering around a roomful of nobles without smalls beneath her dress made my flesh jerk in the palms of her hand. My hands found her naked back, pushing downwards past the silk. Swells of buttocks pushed into my palms, the skin just as smooth as the silk she wore. I hummed in pleasure, "Whilst touching you like this is altogether too appealing, I really need to get this dress off you."

Her laughter was alluring as she crawled into my lap, thighs straddling my hips. Then tempting heat, silken folds pressed against me, and I had to close my eyes to control myself. So close together, so pressed and I struggled, involuntarily thrusting against her. She was slick and I cursed, thinking about throwing her down and entering her without thought. Hales invited breathlessly, amusement and teasing clear in her voice, "So take it off. You haven't forgotten what to do with me, have you?"

I ran my hands underneath her dress, pushing her hemline higher and higher until the material bunched and she ducked her head underneath the silk to shake off her dress. I threw it across the room, where it fluttered down like an exotic bird before turning my attention back to her. I stared, felt my mouth go dry as I replied hoarsely, "Not at all."

Beautiful didn't even begin to cover it. Her curly tresses were a mass against her shoulders, a dark halo over her head. Her eyes, anything but innocent now, stared up into mine. My hands caressed her collarbones to her breasts that were perfect handfuls, nipples tightened. I lowered my head to them, suckling and running my tongue around them, teeth grazing. She keened again, that soft wail of need rising from within her. When I released her nipples, they were fully puckered, dusky pink and eager for my touch. Her hips rocked, teeth grazing my ear making me shiver with the pleasurable torment that I had only ever dreamed of. She teased playfully, "Oh good. As awe-inspiring as it is to bed a Princess, I don't think its much fun when you're _too_ awe-"

I pressed her onto her back, placing her hands above her head, caressing down her arms, and interrupted, "You know, you really shouldn't get so mouthy when you're underneath me, Princess or no."

She shot me a smouldering smile and arched an eyebrow, "Oh? And why's that?"

I traced her flat stomach, the indent of her waist before the flare of her hips. Dark curls were sprinkled tantalizingly at her mound, legs long and shapely just begging to be thrown over my shoulders or my forearms or locked around my waist. Any way possible to have her.

I told her almost threateningly, "Because I won't treat you like a Princess, Hales," before opening her legs almost roughly and in an instant, buried my face into her slit. Her shrill cry filled my ears as I parted her folds with a swipe of my tongue, a slick gush of her nectar greeting me. Yes, I thought with triumph, she wanted me. Her body couldn't lie. Fingers pushed into my hair, nails scratching at my scalp. I hooked my arms around her thighs and pulled her closer, wanting to drown in her scent. Sweet… so sweet and her magic, so powerful slithered to the tip of my tongue.

She bucked, wild beneath me as I sucked on her sensitive pearl. I drank of her greedily. The more I tasted, the more I wanted, the more my cravings grew. She tasted perfect, tart and sweet and salty all at the same time. I adored it. I craved it.

I heard her chant my name, her words a garbled mess of 'Carver' and 'please'. Her fingers tightened upon the bedspread, her back arched, her mouth dropped into a perfect circle, constant moans echoing in the room. My tongue lashed against her and I felt her first release tremble out of her. Her body shook, grinding up into my face. I wanted her to come for me, had dreamed of that look of bliss that washed over her face. Her eyes were glazed over, widened from the pleasure that wracked her body. Her arms were taut, tight and tensed up, fingers gripping upon the sheets until her knuckles turned white. Her release was even more exciting than anything I had ever experienced, the image of seeing her completely out of control branded in my mind forever.

I didn't stop, my mouth covering her sopping slit continuously and she managed to gasp out, "That's your definition of not treating me like a Princess?"

She was heady and tangy, her taste even more intense after orgasm. This had been what I wanted. Her hot honey spilling out for me and this time, I could touch it. Her hands tried to push me away as she sobbed out, "Carver…I… Too much…" but every movement of her attempted escapes only provoked me further. I indulged in my intimate possession of her, primal as I sank my finger into her for the first time. It was completely perverted to want her this much. Perverted to want to watch her break apart for me time and time again. I lifted my head to watch ecstasy cross her features as she cried out in surprise at the intrusion of my fingers.

It was then I answered her, "More or less. You see, Princesses don't have to beg for her lover to stop over-pleasuring her. You'll have to do much more than that to make _me_ stop." I tested her, crooking my fingers inside of her, "Actually, over-pleasuring you is officially my duty so I doubt you can do anything to make me stop," I said conversationally. She was tight. Yielding but tight and when I pushed my fingers into her again, her moans doubled. I lowered my voice and jokingly mocked her, "Princesses also don't normally get pushed up onto a table and then orgasm spectacularly whilst Qunari group outside for war."

I kept a rhythm, watching as her body rocked down to take more of my fingers and told her, "And Princesses don't normally get possessed by a Templar to the point of being a slave to the pleasures he brings her." I turned my head to the inside of her thigh and pressed my teeth against her flesh, marking her gently to prove my point.

Even lifted away from her flesh, I could smell her scent and I became harder, hungrier and needier. She writhed sensuously on the bed, snake-like in her movements, her legs bending at the knee then straightening. Again and again, I sank my finger into her, savouring how her hips rolled out with every deep push. I was mesmerized. I forgot everything else aside from her body and her moans, even my own neglected arousal.

Maker, her moans… the way she sounded when she was close, so close, I curled my finger inside of her and her voice staggered into higher pitches until her breath was gone, her body twisting, wracking against orgasm. I slowed my fingers, watching her chest heave, the valley between her breasts covered by a sheen of sweat. The full brunt of emotion slammed wave after wave. First, it had been pure possession, wanting her to surrender completely time and again but now, it was gentler. I surged up beside her and she rolled onto me, lips on mine to taste herself. She purred at the back of her throat, eyes sated and glazed.

"Carver…" she whispered, her body gliding sweetly along my own. My hands slid down her sinuous back, dipping along her spine. She stretched like a cat, eyes slanted with mischief. Love rushed to the forefront, making the world spin around me. I was in no rush despite the heady tang of sex torturing me, so I coaxed her, "Enjoy it… We're in no hurry. We've got all night."

But she had other plans in mind and Hales' hands slid down my body, hot fingers wrapping around my heated flesh, body rubbing up like a cat against me. I jumped a little, my head hitting the headboard. Her throaty laugh was no help, the sound slithering into my body, a shiver running down my spine. Waves of endless need crashed into my body, my breath stopped for a moment.

She told me with husky laughter, "Let me touch you." How could I possibly deny her? It'd take a stronger man than I to say no. She pressed deliberate kisses at my knee, her hand stroking teasingly up and down my flesh, her eyes almost fascinated by the way I thrust into her hand. "More," I heard myself say the word like an explicit curse. My head was thrown back, I could feel my neck aching with tension. I swallowed that lump in my throat.

"As you wish," her voice was much too mischievous and there was a bell ringing at the back of my mind warning me but the slow movement of her fingers wrapped around me, giving a sure stroke that had my breath start and stop erratically.

The world paused when her lips pressed lightly over my length, teasing kisses applied with her flickering tongue grazing and feathering upon the heavily veined underside. I muttered graphic words, hands deep in her hair, leaking from the excruciating ache building inside me. My toes curled, thighs clenched. I teetered between succumbing to her torture, so close to the brink or allowing her to do as she pleased, continually taunting me.

Then I smelt her mana rising in the air, the metallic hint at the back of my tongue when I took in breath.

Her hands, artificially warmed, cupped me and it was as though fire streaked right through me. Then frosty breath tickled, tingling electricity danced and I growled, a rough sound echoing in the room as my hips jerked and she _finally _sank her lips down upon me.

I was captivated to the pleasure she brought me. My breath stopped, discipline forcing my head to count in numbers as I fought to restrain myself, wanting to be gentle with her. My body clenched as her lips slid deeper down and I snarled out in warning, "Hales…"

Her lips lifted, sucking almost twice as hard and when she came away, an audible pop sounded. "Mmmm…" she said, "Yes, Carver?" I reached the end of my self-control and held her tightly, rolled her beneath my burning body, capturing her cooled lips like a man starved. I traced the edges of her lips, warming her from the spells. Images entered my mind – all the different ways I could sate myself inside her, and quickly. Almost involuntarily, I thrust myself deep within her.

Glorious, tight and hot… so hot… I was swallowed within her. Maker, how I had dreamed of this moment… and how poor a comparison my dreams had been compared to the true fire of her. I groaned, low in my throat as she shuddered in my arms and squeezed tightly around me. It did nothing to help my restraint.

"You're making it very difficult for me to take this slowly," I almost grumbled.

Her eyes became vulnerable, clearing my mind of the harsh and sudden need. With her arms wrapped around me, her voice was sweet as she trailed off into a question, "You want to…"

I laughed despite myself, "I've been waiting years too, you know." I nibbled at her ears, "Years wanting to feel you wrapped tight around me… did you think I'd let you get away so easily by making it quick? No, I want to savour when I make love to you. Hoard you like a little boy's candy pile." I took her body in closer, heaping her in like a small bundle of treasures, nuzzling her collarbones.

She smiled with intimate delight, her legs slid up to my waist and knowing what she wanted, I pushed myself deep into her again. Cries and moans echoed in the room and through it all, I watched her, both love and lust firing through me. Her eyes became foggy, her arms became tight around me and her body rose up to me in a moment of feminine power before she utterly succumbed to me, giving all of her over.

Groaning out, I tried to keep the pace slow but her uninhibited moans made my body tighten and each movement, each thrust became deep and hard, filling her with my thick length. Her body moved wild and passionate beneath mine, my fantasies had done her an injustice. I could feel her hunger, her heat, her velvet channel driving me insane.

Then… her touches were no longer simply her own. When her head tilted back and her nails bit deeply into my back, scoring heat and pain over my skin, it was as though another world was touching me. Her magic, I managed to think at the back of my mind, but much more. Her power and sorcery was sweeping right through my body.

It was so warm, caressing me from outside with her hands and within me with her power. It sang sweetly in my blood, making my body feel safe, a dark and erotic addiction seeping into my bones. It was exciting, stimulating, her magic bubbling right through me. Mana and lyrium fused, knitted within my organs until my body seemed to dissolve.

I lost myself into her, her body, her cries, her heat, her clutching arms, her warmth, her tightness, her magic… everything.

We reached the peak, our mingled cries like a song of pleasure. I cried out for mercy, a plea that I could scarcely believe as I thrust into her almost as hard as I could, her rolling hips meeting mine with an enthusiasm that made my climax so strong, slashes of lightening appeared in my mind. I held her tightly to me as we both rode out the waves of pleasure together, spending myself into her depths. Maker, the pleasure was overwhelming until I was completely weightless, like all I held in my arms was a soul and I was nothing but a spirit, locked with another.

Eventually, I found myself collapsed upon her, arms still surrounding her, my face buried in her hair. I tried to roll over with some difficulty so I wouldn't crush her delicate body and she followed me over, like water following gravity, whimpering a little as she hid her face into my neck. I held her, unable to do anymore than bask and breathe in her scent. I was sated, my mind quiet, body completely exhausted and the world was tiny, as small as she was.

"Mmm…" she hummed out, lifting her head to share gentle kisses with me.

I told her in a murmur, "Well, I didn't expect that."

Her only answer was a sigh, nuzzling my chest with her face. I confessed without thought, without a filter to catch my thoughts before I blurted them out, "I wasn't expecting that. I knew we'd get a bit crazy but… I wasn't expecting that."

She nodded against me, instinctively understanding my reference to her sorcery, "My third trigger… Apparently, all my triggers have something to do with you. I could feel it inside me, all my magic releasing… I –" she looked at me fearfully, "I think it'll always be like that… every time we –" she gestured meaningfully, eyes vulnerable with evident worry that I would spurn her after she had given herself to me.

Silly girl, I thought, like I could ever have the courage to stay away from her. I cupped her face, brought her close to kiss her again and again, "You say that like somehow I would mind," I caressed her face, "I wasn't sure I could ever have the chance to make love to you… You don't have to worry about that. I want all of you. I love you, Hales, all of you, even the part that will surely make me an addict to your sorcery. That's gone unsaid for far too long."

Hales shimmied down the bed and I joined her, holding her in my arms as she yawned tiredly, head upon my shoulder. With a mumbled, "Love you," her eyes closed and smiling, I wrapped the furs around our cooling bodies.

And finally… Finally!... I had everything I ever wanted.

That sense of worth, that worthwhile life, it was finally mine.

_Hales_

I felt light from the window slowly pierce through my sleep, bringing my body towards wakefulness and the first thing I thought of was _him_. Smiling at the memory of our lovemaking, I rolled over –

The bed was empty.

Stunned, I sat up quickly, a head rush making me dizzy. He was standing at the window with his back to me, one arm leaning against the glass, only partially dressed with his breeches on and little else. My heart sank, a cold splash of water right to my face. He had spoken such sweet words the night before, were they spoken only due to the influence of romantic firelight? I squared my shoulders, feeling almost ashamed and humiliated, as I secured the sheets around my breasts, ready to face the heartache that was sure to come.

Yet as I was just ready to voice my thoughts, to question him about his potential second thoughts, Carver whipped around, eyes already rolling, shaking his head with an exasperated grin, "Oh ye of little faith," he teased whilst crawling onto the bed and towards me.

I blinked, that wasn't what I had expected from him. Carver chuckled a little at my expression, whispering into my mind gently: _I can hear your doubts, my love. _

He admonished, "I meant what I said last night, Hales."

I shrugged, defensive because I felt silly, "I don't know! You were all looking out the window, being all pensive and thinking and you know, that's just weird," I rambled. His answer was to smile and brush our mouths together for a second before looking at me with those clear azure eyes.

It was in that moment that I realized just how much Carver had grown up. My doubts, once upon a time, would have sent him into a surly mood. Now, he felt the need to assure and I said almost in wonder, "You really have grown up…"

He crossed his legs, sitting in the middle of the coverlet and grinned, "Such a tone of surprise. What? Did you think you invited a _boy_ into your bed?"

I teased, "Well… You are a whole year and two weeks younger than me."

His eyes darkened with wilfulness, "Want me to show you how much of a _man_ I am?"

I smacked his muscled shoulder, rolling my eyes. In at least _some _ways, he hadn't changed at all. Then I asked in seriousness, "So why _are _you up and thinking?"

He shrugged, "Mostly because Elissa knocked on the door about an hour ago to see if you were going to court?"

Court! I had forgotten! I cursed, "Damn it!" I quickly crawled out of bed, tangled in the sheets only to find myself thrown back on the bed, Carver on top of me. "Don't worry," he said huskily, "she took one look at me, peeked her head around the door to see you sleeping with a bare back, giggled like a maniac and told me to tell you that you should take a few days off." Then he amended, "At least until Desmarais comes back with news."

"Oh," I said, not able to think of what else to say. Then I asked, "Wait, what were we talking about?"

He surveyed me with amused eyes, "I have never seen you so scattered. I should have seduced you years ago, that would have put a stop to your irritating brain and your irritating need to overthink. Who would have known that getting laid would make you so forgetful?"

I retorted without any real malicious bite, "Mikhail did."

His eyes were challenging, defiant and he put his lips at the base of my neck, sucking at the skin with fierceness, teeth worrying the flesh. I shivered but protested, "Carver!" His voice was full of laughter, "That'll teach you to mention another man's name in bed. You are mine, you little freak." Defiant blue eyes looked down into mine and I realized with a start that he was _happy_. His eyes twinkled with a contentment that I had never seen before.

_He truly loves me._ I thought in my head.

His response was immediate. _There was doubt?_

I apologized, "I'm sorry, Carver. Habits are hard to break. When I saw you standing by the window like that…" My thoughts caught up with me, "Wait. You can hear me _that_ easily?"

Carver eyed me with barely suppressed amusement, "Very scattered. Alright, Hales. Yes, I can hear you that easily. It must come from my lyrium and your mana. Something happened last night, I felt…"

I nodded, the feeling of fusion between us was still present. I hadn't noticed it until being more solidly awake. It was like a link I could follow. Something... a path, that led me to him. He followed my train of thought easily, "I felt… light. Like I was completely unhindered by my body. Like our souls welded together for a moment."

_So… you can hear everything I think?_

Carver shrugged. _Not everything but I know when you're distressed and when you think loudly… Or when you direct your thoughts at me. _

I blinked, "This is just way too much to take in. I mean, what are the limits? Can you hear me even if we're very far apart? Will this damage you?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine. We'll test it as we go. I'm not about to stress and overthink this the way your brain is threatening to."

"This is serious," I said.

"Sure," he agreed too easily, "but it is what it is. We'll work the kinks out as we go. What _is_ serious, however, is our previous conversation."

I shrugged helplessly, "Old habits die hard. I wasn't sure what I was expecting but the bed being cold wasn't one of them." I looked around a little, "I mean, I get that we can't always wake up together but I thought… I'm not really sure what I thought. It's not like I've really woken up with anyone before."

Carver frowned, "I don't really want to bring up his name but you and Mikhail –"

I finished off for him, "We were together but I never spent the entire night with him. I always had to get back home and Bethany and I used to share a room. Sneaking out whilst she was asleep was fine but I had to sneak back in too before morning came."

"So, she never knew about him?"

I shook my head, "I never told her."

Unable to resist, my arms curled around his neck, pulling him to me for kisses and his elbows fell on either side of my head to brace his weight. I smiled, "Since we don't need to be up, come back to bed."

His movements were quick, business-like as he pulled his breeches off and slid underneath the blankets, rolling on top of me. He offered, "All I want to say is that if I was having second thoughts," another soft kiss landed at the corner of my lips, "I would just leave and I usually do. I'm here." He leaned back, carding fingers through my hair, staring into my eyes with sincerity, "I love you." Then he reached up, his arms reaching for the vanity, fingers grasping at the amulet he had given me years ago, fastening it around my neck, "This time, you really aren't taking it off."

I shrugged beneath him, neck craned to make his task easier, "I don't know… I just realized that your job doesn't get any easier being with me." He raised his eyebrows, speculative but incredulous, "My job?" he questioned, "My _job_ doesn't change whether I'm with you or not. I send Meredith fake reports that have been approved by Alistair. It's not like I'm about to write," he spoke in a mockingly high-pitched, prim voice, "Dear Knight-Commander Meredith. I wish to report that the Princess has no blood-magic related tendencies and Ferelden is still peaceful. Though the politics seem tense, the King has yet to step down. I also wish to note that I'm currently sleeping with the Princess, her smooth flesh and limber legs too much of a temptation for one Templar to handle–"

I smacked his arm, pushing him away from me, "Ugh!" I complained, "Really, Carver?"

His laughter was amused, coarse and infectious, his muscles rippling as his body shook. Snuggled up against his chest, I found myself laughing too, a sense of contentment seeping into me, making me languid and decadent whilst sprawled out in our luxurious bed. When he calmed down, he looked at me with slightly more serious eyes and said with honesty, "Nothing changes… well," he amended, "That's not entirely true." I frowned but he continued with a grin, "When I'm not with you, I worry about you. I miss you, I think about whether you're safe, whether Anora has her claws in you yet but I suppose that if you're in trouble, I might be able to tell anyway what with the sorcery."

Our legs tangled, the fine hairs of his leg tickling my thighs as he pressed them between my own, his voice low and _almost _seductive as he whispered, "But when I _am_ with you, I want you. Only difference is that _now,_ I'll be able to do more than just fantasize. I'll be thinking about all those different ways I can have you once you're done talking with those poncy nobles and overdressed prigs."

I said wryly, "You paint a most dignified picture of my loyal subjects."

His leg pressed up higher, against my quickly moistening folds, dragging backwards and forwards, his hardened length pressing against my belly then retreating. My breath caught in my throat as he continued, painting a hundred images in my mind, "How I'd throw you over my shoulder like that time in Ostagar, drag you upstairs. I might take you on that chintz out in your living room… or," he looked past my shoulder, mouth at my ears, "that closet looks tempting. I could push you up against that wood. I bet you wouldn't be able to dress in the morning without remembering how I took you."

I tried to control the blush, the rush of blood that flooded my cheeks but I don't think I succeeded, his eyes knowing as he studied my form, continually muttering dirty promises in my ear, "Then there's the window… We're up high enough that your _loyal subjects _wouldn't see…and the vanity… Maybe I should sit down on that luxurious chair, spread you out on top of me, your back to my chest, so you can watch in the looking glass as I disappear inside you."

Lyrium flames tickled over my body, alluring pleasures made me whimper and I rolled against him, "Is this how you attracted all those females back in Lothering? By talking dirty?"

He replied without missing a beat, "Conversation wasn't really at the top of my list with those females but with you, I'm going to make you come using everything I've got. I mean, seriously, you can't tease me this long and expect me not to overcompensate." My hands slid down his chest, up his arms and I kissed him deeply, sliding my tongue to his lips. His tongue peeked out to greet mine, lazy swirls of his tongue teasing me. My hips found his erection, pressing and rolling my moist folds against him.

His voice was full of husky need, his smile smug and victorious, "I've spent years fantasizing about spending myself inside you, wanting to find complete satisfaction with you, in you, on you… anything… I'm going to take you in every position I know and then a couple more."

"Need you," I moaned out, "_Now…_" I sank down onto his length until all of him was within me. Carver filled me so _deeply_. His smile was raw and uncivilized as he sat up so our bodies touched, my breasts grazing against his chest. His hands covered me, touching and caressing me all over. With one hand at the small of my back, he guided my movements as I rocked myself against him. His other hand traced at my waist, thick and long fingers massaging the dent of my waist. He made me feel feminine and fragile against the strength of his broad shoulders, his warrior masculinity.

Our lips pressed, our tongues tangled, fused together with intermittent breaths before our mouths sealed together again. I grabbed at his shoulders, wrapped my arms around him, nails biting into his skin, dragging down his back as the pleasure intensified. It was mind-numbing. He began to thrust from beneath me, moaning my name, muttering words of adoration and affection, "I love you… Maker, Hales…" as I cried out, whispering and calling out for him.

My magic bubbled within me, my restraint crumbling as carnal pleasures beckoned. It fuelled our desires, welled up the need, sweeps of sensation crawling, slithering seductively all over us. Our bodies melded so perfectly, our thrusts timed sweetly, naturally, so easy and wonderful. I squeezed my channel tightly around him, wanting to see him lose control. He didn't disappoint, a torrent of growls issuing from his throat, his eyes narrowing at me dangerously. His rough countenance didn't frighten me, if anything, it only served to incite me further, doing anything to drive him crazy.

I was losing breath, panting as the need to go faster struck me like lightening. His hands gripped my hips tightly, hard enough to leave prints and yet the pressure only made me cry out for more. Carver's body thrummed both with want and my own power shared into him. Our eyes locked, brown on blue, the tempting darkness of the abyss echoing in us. So close to the peak… so close… he knew, he could sense it, how the magic strained itself around us, vibrating and pulsating. The pleasure overwhelmed, I soared from the freefall and he thrust powerfully until a yielding groan tore from his lips, his teeth caught my shoulder, holding me and I felt him spill within me. It was pure pleasure pushed to every inch of my body. My limbs didn't exist and all that remained was the magical essence of each of us, lyrium and mana fused together until we were utterly whole.

We stayed in that position, locked for a long while as we slowly caught our breaths. Carver released his hold on my shoulder, tongue soothing out the indents he made upon my flesh. "Sorry," he apologized with affection in his voice, kissing at the reddened imprint. "I love you, Carver," I offered to him with a charming but tired smile and he hummed in delight. I laid my head on his shoulder, nuzzling him in the afterglows until I was awake enough to see the mess I had made of his back.

Healing magic slid like errant thoughts out of my fingertips, completely second nature though I was tired. Slowly the streaks of inflamed, bumpy skin turned smooth and he took my arms in his hands and shrugged at me, "Leave it. It'll heal and you will have to leave more marks there." Uncharacteristically, he took my fingers and kissed them one at a time, "I like it."

We fell on the bed as I sighed in comfort, "Mmmm… you know," I started, my heart in my eyes, "We're very unconventional."

I felt his body shift as he asked in a slightly sardonic tone, "Are you referring to our fake adopted sibling past or the fact that your sorcery explodes when we make love?"

"Neither," I told him, "I'm referring to the fact that most couples do the frantic tumble first _before_ the slow, exploratory lovemaking. We did the inverse."

He caught my lips with sweetness, the sincerity of his love so embedded within a simple affection. Carver smiled, eyes darkened with satisfaction as he brushed his lips over my forehead, "I don't know how you count, Hales, I'm guessing you're feeling pretty scattered again since you just got laid," I narrowed my eyes at him, daring him to continue. He did, "But uh… that _was _the first frantic tumble," then he pulled the coverlets over our heads and slid down my body, murmuring into my stomach, "And _here's_ the exploratory counterpart."

I giggled girlishly with delight before he converted those sounds in moans of pleasure.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay. This chapter was a long time coming. I know. I hope I managed to make it right for the characters and my readers.

Let me know what you think, I always need help writing better. Please R&R!

As always, you have my love.

Ann


	19. Secret Trap

**Chapter 19 – Secret Trap**

_Hales_

We had some time, where Ferelden was in the eye of the storm and through each day, though I had my duties both in court and to my family, it was as though I were in a honeymoon of sorts. Each blessed day blurred into the next one, incredibly content and happy, I was distracted by Carver's love that I almost forgot the gravity of the situation.

I woke each morning feeling well-rested despite my lover's insatiable appetites and he would always be there beside me, smiling down at me, watching me sleep. Carver's hands would card into my hair, he would hold me in an embrace so tender and adoring I could scarcely believe his gentleness. How could I have ever believed him only brash and rough? His passions were gentle as a stream, violent as a tsunami, deep as the ocean, light as air. I had so much to learn about him despite growing up with him all these years.

Breakfast would always be easy, sometimes filled with a comfortable silence punctuated by undemanding caresses and loving smiles, sometimes filled with gentle words and sweet conversations, sometimes filled with our mingled cries of pleasure, food forgotten beside the bed.

Though holding court would be a tiring affair in which Alistair and I resumed our fake frosty relationship, Carver always stood resolutely behind my throne like a strong anchor amidst a storm. That being said, it helped that Alistair and I had such a closer sibling relationship. We had no real rivalry and his eyes still glowed with brotherly love when I made a cutting remark to criticize him publicly, letting me know that he understood and approved of my actions, if only to keep up pretences.

Court was troublesome. The nobles attempted to stage a coup but were very obviously reluctant and not even trying very hard. They said things like, "We would like to withdraw support. We don't like how you're running things," but then when asked what it was that required changing, no answers were given. Vague lines like, "You need to do it differently," was all that was given. Anora's power over Ferelden court seemed limited and we were at an impasse of sorts. On the odd occasion that she did attend court, it was mostly to snipe with Elissa or Alistair for trivial reasons. Her proposed changes were simply to revert what we had already changed and each time, the nobles would find one way or another to end up supporting Alistair again. It was frustrating just to watch though I had to be grateful that very few changes were really being made.

In the afternoons, Carver would leave me for a short while, heading towards the barracks to help train the army men with Alistair and Fenris. Anders, Elissa, Mikhail and I would head towards the gardens where we would spar and allow me to develop my quickly progressing powers. I had troubles with control but with some help, my potentials of magical disasters lowered dramatically. The sudden spike in my power did take Anders by surprise but his talent in magic and understanding of my powers soon smoothed things out.

Things were, for a little while, tense between Mikhail and me. Knowing that he would never have me again, Mikhail's eyes would turn sad and heartbroken. He would say little to me, leave without much indication of goodbye and was altogether distant and withdrawn but even within weeks, our friendship resumed, our camaraderie as it was once before. Slowly, he accepted Carver and who he represented in my life and the two of them even managed a civil relationship if only because the two had such similar goals.

When dinner came, the seven of us would always be in the gazebo, feasting upon delicious foods, laughing, talking and recounting the day's events. Occasionally, we had guests. Merrill, Isabela and Varric visited, keeping us up to date with Ferelden underworld news. It would be around that time that I'd also take out my magical mirror that Sebastian had given me and all of us would converse with him. He introduced his new lady love to us, Lady Josephine, a charmingly smart woman who could definitely keep Sebastian in line. Aveline, on the other hand, would often send letters to us and dinner would be the time in which that letter would be read and shared. Our replies written as a group – I'm certain Aveline would laugh at each letter we sent her; all the varying handwritings that were included would surely amuse her.

When it came time for bed, Carver would find a new way each night to surprise me. Some nights, he would carry me upstairs, the strength of his arms sweeping me from my chair like I weighed nothing. Other times, he would kiss my hand and take me upstairs with his heart in his eyes, surprising me with his gentility and romanticism. Each night would end the same way. We would be in bed, he would hold me to his chest and whisper into my mind: _Goodnight, my love._

Three weeks passed like a blink of an eye.

Then Desmarais came, requesting an audience with the King. A letter had come. The few weeks that had seemed like a vacation was finally over. I was in my living room, reading through some papers regarding the approval of materials required to rebuild certain structures in Denerim when Carver came for me. He leaned against the door pane and broke through my thoughts, "We're needed downstairs. I guess Desmarais was actually useful for something."

I looked up, smiled victoriously and dropping the papers to read later, the both of us went downstairs. At dinner, Alistair shared two items. One, the key that once belonged to Desmarais. Two, the letter that Meredith had sent to Anora via Desmarais. Alistair read the letter out loud; it was brutally short and direct.

"Anora,

Time is running short as is my patience. Your inability to sway the nobles will surely cost us. I suggest I launch my attack upon Ferelden immediately. This will occur with or without your help. If you confirm, our alliance remains. You may still support me to Viscountess. If you do not confirm, our alliance ends. I will become Viscountess by showing Kirkwall that I am capable of conquering another piece of land for my city.

I suggest you reply soon.

Meredith"

The gravity of the situation quickly dawned upon each of us and Alistair's expression was grave. This was war. This meant casualties on both sides. He said unusually stern, devoid of his normal humour or laughter, "We have no choice. We must act."

Elissa leaned forward, "We need to prepare for war. Ready ourselves for assault. Line up the guards. In the morning, I will have the men –"

"Wait!" I interrupted, "We cannot defend ourselves from Meredith only. What about Anora? We cannot fight whilst weak from within."

Mikhail nodded, "I agree. Anora must answer for what she's done." He became violent, slamming his hand on the table, "She_ must_ pay for her crimes!"

Elissa shot Mikhail a cutting glance, "Calm yourself, Mikhail! We may not have the _time_ to entertain your whims for revenge."

"Hold up!" he cried out, "I helped you! And this is the-"

Anders, knowing that the argument would lead to irrevocably hostile odds, decided to intervene, "Wait, wait… all of us need to calm down. Both of you are right."

As all of them began to squabble, standing upon their feet to point fingers, Carver glanced at me, worry in his eyes. He gestured for me to say something.

_Mikhail has a point but so does Elissa. We don't have time if Meredith will attack soon but Anora isn't to be trifled with either. _

I stood quickly, a small burst of mana pulsing from my body. It was a wave just powerful enough to knock them back into their seats. I glared at Alistair, willing him to do something. With a nod, he began, "I believe Anders is correct. We all have a point and we must act and do it all. Hales is correct when she says that Ferelden cannot fight a war whilst weak from within. All fronts must be accounted for and dealt with appropriately."

"We have time," I added, trying to instil calm in each of them, "Now that we have intercepted this letter, we have bought time enough to fix this situation. Meredith is waiting for a reply, she knows that such a reply will require time." I repeated again, "We have time but we must act fast."

Mikhail crossed his arms and huffed out, "Fine. What are you suggesting?" his eyes glaring at me.

I scorned, "Well Mikhail, if you would allow me a few minutes to collect my thoughts and contribute some _constructive_ criticism, I'll tell you. I am _not_ your enemy."

That sobered him up, his attitude dropping instantly. He shook his head, "Of course. I apologize."

I felt Carver's hand touch my back in support.

_Be careful. Mikhail's need for revenge might have to satisfied. We don't want to lose an ally._

_I know. I just need to sort out my thoughts._

As everyone watched me, waiting upon my words, I closed my eyes and devised. I had one objective: protect Ferelden but I had three problems. One, Meredith and her potential army. Two, Anora and in extension, Mikhail's vengeance. Three, the nobles at court given the fact that they supported Anora. All of them had to be dealt with.

For Meredith, we needed to defend and launch a surprise attack on Kirkwall with Sebastian's Starkhaven forces. With Kirkwall surrounded from the north by Sebastian and from the south by our men, we would surely defeat her. For Anora, we had enough evidence to throw her into the dungeon. That was relatively simple but how would I regain the favour of the nobles such that they wouldn't attempt to sabotage our government whilst we were at war? What would make them loyal?

Carver answered my question: _Anora has dirt on them, right? Likely to be stowed away in that little room Mikhail keeps raving on about, the one needing two keys. We can use the same weapons but instead of blackmailing them, we try something else. Maybe a public acknowledgement that everyone has made mistakes?_

I laughed, delighted at his thoughts whilst the others stared at me. I clapped my hands together and leaned forward, "Alright, I have a plan."

All of them leaned forward as one and I told them, "I'm sure that by now, we know how to deal with Meredith, yes?"

Fenris snarled out impatiently, "Yes, we know. Sebastian will have his army join ours and together, we will defeat Kirkwall's army. That's all very good. Now, Anora?"

I declared proudly, "A public humiliation."

Mikhail sighed out exasperatedly, "You have enough evidence for that already. We can execute her by morning!"

"And the nobles? What of their loyalty?" I questioned him coolly, "Mikhail, do not let rage blind you. You will have your revenge, this I promise." I continued, "You know where her key is kept, yes? To her vault?"

He nodded confidently, "Of course. She keeps it in her pocket, a private lining inside her dress, at all times until night. At night, she hides it somewhere in her room before she sleeps. I'm not completely certain but I know it is in one particular section of the wall. But if you plan on stealing it, you should know that Anora is a light sleeper, even the slightest noise wakes her. Stealing it in the morning is impossible unless you plan on lifting her skirts. Stealing it at night may be just as difficult."

I said simply like my plans were very obvious, "Then we watch her, wait for her to sleep and distract her whilst stealing the key at night. The rest will pan out."

As Carver laughed, instantly knowing what I was up to, Alistair rolled his eyes, "Alright sweetheart, can we stop with the dramatic one-liners and give us the full details of your plan, please?"

Carver filled in the missing pieces, "What your dear sister is suggesting is that we wait until she sleeps, ensure that she has hidden the key and suddenly spring a sudden visit or something equally surprising such that Anora is distracted enough to leave her room, giving time for someone else to find and then steal the key. If the key leads to a vault then we have both keys. We have access to whatever other documents Anora has."

Elissa caught on quickly, "Those documents could be used against the nobles. If we want to buy their loyalty, we offer them a clean slate and make a show to burn those documents. Ferelden would be strong from within again!"

Fenris then elaborated, "With Anora in court and publicly ruined, her power is lost and she will be executed. The nobles will be loyal and all that remains will be to deal with Meredith appropriately and efficiently."

I leaned back, my expression smug, "And we're going to send Meredith a letter from Anora and Carver. The type that says…" I gave Carver a significant look.

He grinned and finished off for me, "The type that says 'Dear Knight-Commander Meredith, Alistair has stepped down and Anora will soon be Queen.' Then we have someone fake Anora's handwriting to similarly tell Meredith of the 'good' news. Meredith's guard will be lowered and we attack from both sides."

Mikhail scoffed, "That's a great plan, and" he said sarcastically, "Meredith is _never_ going to find out."

Carver disagreed, his expression irritated, "We send the messages first, wait a few days and _then_ ruin Anora. By the time Meredith finds out from her own spies, it will be days later. We would already have attacked Kirkwall by then."

Alistair shrugged, trying to assuage the tense atmosphere, "Mikhail has a point. Meredith doesn't have to believe what is being sent."

"What's the likelihood of that though?" asked Anders, "Meredith doesn't know that Desmarais has been compromised. Even if she doesn't trust Carver, the same can't be said of Anora."

Elissa shook her head, "Not true. We don't know the manner in which Anora and Meredith communicated. The paper could be special, have unique prints or marks… We have no way of finding out such information. The letter must come from Anora."

"I was going to suggest that I distract Anora by going to her estate very late one night," I said in a genial tone, "We could ensure that she was asleep and I'll rampage into her room, ensure she has no time to take the key from the hiding place."

Mikhail then elaborated on my plan, "I could take the key and sneak into the vault, taking some of the incriminating documents."

Elissa interrupted, "The letter needs to come from Anora. She needs to reply to Meredith's letter." In case of doubt, she added for emphasis, waving the letter in the air, "This letter needs to be received by Anora. She cannot know of any documents being missing."

I shrugged, "That's easily done. Can't we duplicate the key?"

Alistair laughed, "Of course! We could get any blacksmith to give us some of those clay substances. We could make a mold of the key!"

Nodding, I continued, "Once we have a mold of the key, we can access the vault at any time. I will distract her, telling her that I intend on supporting her bid for the throne. I will tell her that I am aware of Meredith's plot and my support comes at a condition, that she must stop any attacks upon Ferelden."

Carver frowned, "Maybe tell Anora that you have nobles and Templars working as spies in the Kirkwall courts, I don't like the idea of Aveline being implicated."

"Of course," I said to him.

"Then I suspect that if Desmarais were to give her the letter, Anora would be forced to respond," Mikhail concluded, his tone starting to become a little more satisfied, "And because she believes you will support her as Queen of Ferelden, she will tell Meredith that the alliance will continue."

I tapped my fingers upon the wood, smirking at him, "Then we ruin her in court."

Fenris looked at me, his expression grave and worried, "I do not like this, Valentha. You plan on telling Anora that you know of Meredith's plot. By implication, you know of their alliance. She may kill you."

Shrugging again, I told him, "At this point, we might not have another option. Not to mention, she needs me. I have the leverage. I plan on telling her that I hold incriminating evidence against Alistair. That's believable considering how he and I have been acting in court."

Mikhail nodded, "We will do this. We must," his fists were clenched, as though afraid that I would suddenly back out.

I placed my hands upon his, trying to comfort him, "You can even deal the killing blow."

He managed a weak smile, his sighs shuddering in an attempt to keep back tears, "After all this time…" he whispered. I patted his hand, "I know," I said gently, "I know…" When he managed to keep himself composed, he asked, "When do we start?"

I nodded, "Tonight." I began directing, "Bring Desmarais to the palace and give him the letter. Make a duplicate of his vault key and give it to him."

Alistair nodded, "I can do that. I'll have the blacksmith work on a duplicate. That will keep our options open in case he decides to betray us."

Anders offered, "Tomorrow, we could escort him to Anora's estate. You and Fenris could sit in the carriage as a warning." Then his eyes glowed blue for a moment before reverting to honey brown, "Justice believes that our merged mana could turn me invisible to Anora. I could follow Desmarais and ensure nothing goes wrong. As long as you stay in the carriage and keep focused, we should be fine. If things go wrong, I'll kill both of them and then we'll try forging a letter to Meredith."

Fenris nodded his assent to Anders' suggestion.

Carver also added, "And I'll have a letter drafted about Anora becoming Queen after following you these months."

"Great!" I said, "And tonight, Mikhail and I will go to Anora's estate." I looked towards him, "Are you ready and capable of sneaking in?"

He nodded, "Yes but you will need to be careful."

"She won't be going alone," Carver insisted.

"No!" I looked to my love, "I have to go alone. I'm not supposed to let anyone else in on this. You can write your letter and tell Meredith that you followed me but I don't want Anora or her guards to suspect anyone else. I must go alone."

"What?" he demanded, "What if-"

"Carver," I said his name in an inflexible tone, "No. Please remember that I managed to defeat the Arishok in single combat. Anora is nothing in comparison." He grunted, hands thrown in the air out of defeat before growling at Mikhail, "If anything happens to her…"

"Duly noted," Mikhail replied, his tone dry as an autumn leaf.

"I could go," said Anders, "I could stay in the carriage. It would be enough protection because of our mana thing."

"No –" I began protesting but Carver silenced me by placing his hand over my mouth before speaking with Anders directly, "You could keep your mana merged?"

Anders nodded, "The second anything goes wrong, I'd know. She can send messages to me via mana."

I nibbled into Carver's palm hard enough for him to lift his hand away. My eyes flashed with anger and Alistair, sensing another argument, intervened, "Hales, let's not be unreasonable. We've got every right to ensure your safety. We'll compromise. You can go in alone but only if you bring Anders. Take it or leave it. I doubt that guards would search the Princess' carriage."

"Fine," I spat out, still glowering at Carver who was utterly unaffected.

Everyone dispersed from dinner and a carriage was to be brought from the back of the castle. I stood waiting at the gates with Mikhail, Anders and Carver. I refused to look at Carver, feeling insulted and belittled that I would require an escort. Protection! I thought angrily, how absurd. I was a powerful mage, a commanding Princess, an unassailable sorceress, how dare he?

When the clip-clop of horses' hooves sounded against the stone roads paved outside the castle, coming to a standstill before us, Mikhail climbed in first, closely followed by Anders who kept a hand out to help me up.

Carver told me, his voice as clipped as his brief smile, "Be careful. I want you to come home without a single hair missing." I refused to answer him, a light and offended sniff the only evidence that I had even heard his request. With a light snarl, he grabbed my wrist, and I scorned him coldly, refusing to look at him whilst my voice became sardonic but majestic, "What do you want?"

His hand forced me to look into his eyes and I almost looked away. Something hot flared in his piercing ice-blue eyes before he fastened his mouth upon mine, a kiss that gave me no doubts as to his fears. I almost hated myself for responding to him the way I had, arms thrown around him, anger forgotten. He told me roughly, "Don't give me that Princess of Ferelden voice, it doesn't work on me. In fact, it pisses me off." Then his voice lowered to a hiss at my ear, "I know how to make you soak your smallclothes and cry out loud from pleasure, so don't try that voice on me. You're my lover, not just the Princess. Don't push me." He pulled away, lightly caressing my cheek, his frustration turning into sweetness with a single kiss, "Come home safe, Hales." I nodded, too out of breath to answer and climbed into the carriage.

The ride was long and nerve-wracking. We were all hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, each of us were scared, fearful, nervous and panicky. We discussed the layout of Anora's estate and Mikhail told us that he would hide upon her balcony, huddled in a corner where she wouldn't see him. He told me that if I were to distract Anora enough, I would need to find her bedroom personally, not allowing her time to find the key again.

A short way from Anora's estate, we dropped off Mikhail and waited, watching him climb the walls of the large mansion with relative ease. When he all but disappeared upon her balcony, we waited. Her window was still glowing with candlelight and we sat for many hours, waiting endlessly until the glows diminished. I shivered, shaking from cold-sweats that were rippling up. Anders whispered to me in the night, "You need to calm down. Anora cannot suspect."

When Mikhail's dagger glinted in the moonlight, the sign that Anora had hidden the key and had gone to bed so, I signalled for the driver to continue down the road. Anders and I began our mana meld, keeping ourselves linked. Calm came to me instantly. Justice took my nerves and sent back feelings of tranquillity and peace. I was utterly composed.

I knocked lightly upon Anora's front door, so light that Anora would never hear. An older woman answered the door, evidently one of the dowager's servants. Her voice was a little croaky, "It is late and the Dowager Queen is asleep. Any callers must return tomorrow."

I was calm and collected, my voice cold, "The Princess of Ferelden will _not_ wait until tomorrow."

The servant immediately curtsied, "Your Highness! I didn't know –"

"Enough!" I said, my hand slicing the air as I walked into the foyer of Anora's home. It was dark and most of the fires had already been put out. There were a few lone guards but no servants scurried about. "Bring me to Anora immediately," I ordered.

She curtsied again, her voice meek, "If you will wait –"

I felt awful being so harsh but some evils were evidently necessary, "I will not wait. Bring me to Anora's room. Immediately. Defy me again…" I trailed off threateningly.

She scurried towards the stairs and I followed quickly, keeping only one pace behind her. The stairs, then a dark corridor and then up a winding staircase towards the top of the mansion, I followed without break, ensuring that the servant could not alert Anora before me. When we made it to a large doorway, I pushed myself in front of the old woman, opening the door and pushing it hard enough for it to bounce against the wall with a loud bang.

A few embers still sat in the fireplace but otherwise, her room was luxurious. It was large with a sizable closet, vanity and bed. My eyes fell upon Anora, jolted awake and in her laced nightgown, her eyes as large as dinner plates. I glared at the servant woman, "Leave us," I ordered and I watched her scuttle away back down the staircase.

Anora was defiant and defensive, climbing out of bed quickly. She accused, "What is the meaning of this, Your Highness?"

"We must speak," I said simply, stepping into her bedroom and throwing a fireball into her fireplace such that the entire room glowed brightly, "Alone."

She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the light before her eyes glanced furtively once to a painting that I could now clearly see. It was a simple painting of a woman with blonde hair, some of her features similar to her own. Perhaps Anora's mother? Anora quibbled, "I – This is- Please, let me dress and I will –"

I interrupted, voice icy and aggravated, "Anora! I have no time to let you dress. I have little time to explain a precarious situation to you. Suffice it to say that you have no body-parts that I lack so if you will, show me to a room that has no windows or servants bustling about so we may speak about your bid for the throne."

Her jaw dropped. I was certain that never in her life had she been addressed in such a manner. "My bid –" she stuttered and I groaned out, each word emphasized for her like a child, "You. Wish. To. Be. Queen. Yes?"

Anora glanced about furtively, eyeing the portrait again, before hushing me, "Shh… do not speak so loudly!"

"Then I suggest you take me another room to speak else I find another to support!"

She gestured, directing me towards another corridor. As she began closing and locking the door behind her, I said loudly, "By the way, I rather like that painting you've got hung on your wall." I hoped Mikhail would understand.

We were already mostly successful and the next part would be simple. I just had to stay calm. We went downstairs towards the cellars where only barbaric torches were lit upon the walls. She shut the metal door and gestured to me, "What did you wish to speak of?"

I studied some of the wines she had on display, suddenly nervous and began, "I will speak plainly. I have some evidence, incriminating evidence that will surely bring down both Elissa and Alistair. I will support your bid to the throne."

She was suspicious, "I know you do not see eye-to-eye with your brother but I hadn't suspected that you were capable of betraying him." Anders sent me a wave of calm, trying to support me.

I turned to face her, studying her intently, "Anora, let me be honest. I do not wish to rule Ferelden. I have no wish to study endlessly with boring old fools. That is not the life I wish to lead. I am tired of being the hero. I wish to rest, to luxuriate in being The Lost Princess. I enjoy my influences in court but only because my whims can be satisfied. I love this country and it is my home but I do not want any part of ruling. Alistair forces me to study, unwilling to pass this land back to you. I don't want this."

"So… you would ruin him?" she asked, her eyes glinting with speculation, a smile curling at her lips.

I tilted my head, "I have collected much on him… then again," I smirked, "I have collected much on many people."

Her devious smile dropped and she narrowed her eyes. I told her, "If you wish for the throne, I will give you my support. Suffice it to say, I know many of the nobles will side with me."

"You don't know that," she said with a staunch pose.

I laughed and composed wildly, "Anora, please. Whatever blackmailing attempts you have with the nobles simply don't compete with my hold upon them. How else could you explain the impasse that has gone on in court? Surely you don't think the nobles actually_ like_ Alistair, do you? I wouldn't expect a woman such as yourself to be so… _naïve_." My tone was cynical, coy and sardonic, "I know much about the nobles and much about you. So let's both stop playing games here."

"What do you know?" she asked cautiously.

I tutted her with, "Enough. I have spies in all courts whether Ferelden, Starkhaven or Kirkwall. I have eyes in many noble families. I even know…" and I smiled cruelly, "that you are planning an alliance with Meredith. Isn't that right? She'll be your physical strength and you'll be her political strength."

She blanched and I strode towards her, her own feet taking steps back in an attempt to keep space between us. I rolled my eyes at her, "Anora, really. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have by now. Do you want to be Queen?"

She nodded, "Of course," her face slowly regaining some colour.

I leaned against a stone pillar in her cellar, "Then listen carefully. I will support your bid to the throne. I intend on ruining Alistair publicly in court. I have enough evidence now and am gathering the last vestiges to ensure his ruining is complete and irrevocable. One week. In one week, I will hold court, one that is called by the Princess. You will know when to arrive. I will ruin him and then make a call to support you."

She rushed to thank me, "Thank you! Your Highness, I will –"

I raised my hand to silence her gratitude, "This comes at a few conditions. Do not thank me yet."

Anora laughed, "I will of course give you the life you wish."

I shook my head, "What you wish to do with Meredith is up to you. If you want an alliance, by all means continue. However," with each word I began to take a step towards her, "if your actions land Ferelden in war and cause poverty and damage to my land and people, there will be severe consequences."

Anora was in agreement, "I do myself no favours by landing Ferelden in war. This, I understand completely."

"Good because my spies have their eyes on you as well. One wrong move, Anora," I threatened, "and your days as Queen will be over."

She nodded once. I told her, pretending to be fearful and nervous, "I must leave, Anora. I have lingered long enough and Alistair cannot suspect…"

"Of course, Princess." She led me up towards the main foyer and bade me goodnight. At the main door, she told me with laughter bubbling in her voice, "I hope to hear from you soon!"

I smiled at her, inwardly sickened and climbed into my carriage once her door had clicked shut. Mikhail and Anders were within and we began the ride home. I looked to Mikhail, "Did you find the key?"

He nodded, "Found, molded then replaced back where I find it, same position." Then he smiled, "Thanks for the tip. I had suspected the portrait but it was the first place I searched after your loud comments."

The tension defused and the three of us laughed all the way home. The emotional burden fell and I was instantly tired but elated that our mission at subterfuge and sabotage had been an utter success.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello readers, sorry for the update that is long overdue! Please R&R!

Love, Ann


	20. Secret Wars

**Chapter 20 – Secret Wars**

_Carver_

I stayed with Alistair and Elissa, if only to keep myself from thinking about Hales and the potential dangers she was walking into. I couldn't fathom why she refused company and help – I couldn't fathom why I hadn't volunteered myself. Perhaps it was because I knew she would deny my requests. I understood that she was a Princess, that she had duties, responsibilities and even obligations that I couldn't even begin to truly understand but we needed to come to a compromise. Even if I couldn't help her, I needed to be there for her and more importantly, _with_ her.

The audience with Desmarais had been short and sweet, my head too distracted with thoughts of Hales to actually listen. Alistair handed over a duplicated key and the letter to the sleazebag and sent him to a guest room so that he would be constantly followed before the trip to Anora's estate the following day. My eyes narrowed at the old noble's back as no less than four guards followed him out. Alistair had taken Hales' magical mirror and he conversed with Sebastian for a short time, if only to let the Prince know what was coming and to prepare for a double assault against Kirkwall.

Then I began to pace, my metal armour clanking as I strode from one end of the throne room to another. Elissa interrupted my thoughts, "You hate waiting for her like this, don't you?"

Alistair was suddenly beside me, an arm thrown over my shoulder, "Of course he does," he said with sympathy in his voice, "It isn't anything you and I haven't gone through." I nearly shrugged his arm off out of pure surliness.

"I know she's the Princess but –" I began and got cut off by Elissa, who sighed out, "But she's there on her own and you want to protect her."

"Yes! Exactly!" I nearly shouted, thankful that someone finally understood. "I just don't see her giving way with this." It was true. Hales was nothing if not independent. I shrugged, "I don't understand why she needs to do everything alone. I'm here for a reason."

Elissa answered, her tone knowing and wise, "She hasn't always had yo-"

"I'm here now!" I exclaimed, knowing her argument. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair.

She tutted me, "She hasn't always had you. You're here now but you can't expect her to adjust and adapt at a moment's notice. She's had to learn to do things on her own a lot, having to depend and rely on you means putting trust in someone else. And though I know you won't leave her," she said this part gently, wanting to assuage my temper, "There'll always be a part of her that fears what will happen if you leave or if you die or if you get taken from her."

I looked towards Alistair who shrugged beside me, "I don't really get women either so don't ask me. It took a while for Elissa to understand as well but I suppose, it took a while to make me realize just how independent Elissa could be, even after everything we'd gone through."

I pursed my lip, "But Elissa killed an _archdemon_."

Elissa laughed, "And Hales killed an Arishok. Do you honestly think being a mage and sorceress makes her invincible?"

"Bloody hell! Of course not! That's the problem! I know she trusts Mikhail but you saw how he was! One wrong word and he would have attacked us all if he could. She isn't physically invulnerable!" I knew better than anyone how difficult it had been for Hales to control her magic, the problems that had happened and how physically vulnerable she could be.

She smiled patiently, "Mikhail is her trusted friend and she got through that battle with the Arishok despite her physical weaknesses. Give her a little more credit. She's fine!"

Alistair rebuked gently, "Perhaps, but that doesn't incorporate Carver into my little sister's life any better and sometimes, the way she goes and charges headfirst into things..." he shook his head, "Carver's a good balance, good for protecting her when she goes off and forgets that she can be easily wounded or killed."

Elissa argued, "She's done fine so far."

"No one is denying that, love," replied Alistair in placating tones, "but you similarly cannot deny that she tends to push herself over healthy limits to get a job done. You heard about the Deep Roads thing, the expedition and then Corypheus. She's always been reluctant to depend on Carver and that independence has gone completely overboard. That over-independence worries me. Everyone needs someone else to keep them grounded."

I listened as Elissa sniped, "That's why we taught her other skills, so she could rely upon herself and not push herself over healthy limits!"

Alistair shook his head, "We won't be here for long. You know that. Thirty years from the day of our Joining and how many have gone by already? Hales needs someone to protect her. Sometimes, from herself." He smiled at me, "You're good for that. We need Hales to learn and be capable of relying on others. I don't want her to one day go too far. I don't mean this quite the way it sounds but the damage Hales could do on the world, both as mage and sorceress, is immense. I never want her to have to get to that point."

Elissa snapped, "And what if something happens to Carver? Every woman needs to learn to be independent. We can't just rely on our husbands!"

I intervened before the argument could degenerate, "And why not? Do husbands not rely on their wives? Do I not take from Hales, only give? Don't be crazy! Besides, it isn't about whether Hales relies on me. It's her general lack of reliance on people unless it's necessary. You saw how reluctant she was to take Anders along."

Alistair said soberly, "She's going to be Queen one day. If I could, I would save her from that fate but Ferelden needs her. I don't want Hales burning out to be the price to pay."

"That problem is easily solved," came a saucy voice, "get Carver to seduce the Princess into agreeing. That always works."

I smirked, "Isabela? What are you doing here?"

She posed in the main hall, tossing her hair over one shoulder, "Heard about Desmarais, thought you might need a hand," she offered lightly, "though by the looks of things, everything's handled and my royal duty is simply to offer suggestions to Carver on how best to tease his lover into submission. Guess Princess ran off with limited help again, huh?"

Elissa and I burst out laughing much to Alistair's slight chagrin. He made a face, "I really rather not think about Hales'... and... urgh."

Isabela grinned at him, eyeing me up and down, "What? It's always angst-filled tensions for one reason or another between Carver and that girl. I mean, come on, you'd think she'd learn to appreciate a man in uniform and just stop worrying so much!"

I couldn't help my reply, "More often than not, she likes to appreciate me _out_ of uniform."

Alistair groaned into his hands, before bumping his head against his wife's shoulder. Isabela threw her head back for a long giggle before recovering enough to say, "I knew that girl was smart but seriously, just talk to her about it. And if she doesn't say yes immediately then just remember: lovers hold a lot of influence over their partners, use it wisely."

Alistair let off a hesitant snicker and the rest of us lost ourselves in laughter though Isabela's idea was firmly implanted in my mind.

With Isabela around to lighten the mood, it didn't seem long before Anders came through flushed with success, followed by Mikhail whose eyes glinted maniacally. Not seeing my own lover, I blurted out hastily, "Where is Hales?"

Anders rolled his eyes, "She's giving the mold to the smithy and then to bed." He turned to Alistair, "She said she'd see you in the morning."

Alistair asked, "That's fine. What happened?"

Mikhail shrugged, "She went in alone. From the balcony, I saw her wake Anora from her bed. Anora had no time to get the key and the two of them left. I had time to find the key, make a mold of it, hide it and get back to the carriage. She was with Anora for a good half hour. Whatever she said, it must have worked because Anora saw her out looking thoroughly delighted, exclaiming to the world how well she'd sleep at night or something."

"Right," I concluded, "So it went great. I'm heading up. We've got a conversation to finish."

Alistair tilted his head towards the stairs, "Don't yell at her. Be gentle and she'll listen." Isabela and I snorted at the implication and he scowled, "No, no, no! I meant, be lenient when you talk about the whole reliance thing. Ugh."

I chuckled all the way up to our suite.

Hales was dressing into a light, cotton robe when I arrived, the material sliding up from her lower back towards her shoulders. I almost forgot what I needed to talk to her about and quipped, "Looks like I missed the best part."

She giggled, her voice girlish but still nervous from adrenaline, eyeing me over her shoulder with a wink. Eventually, she said, "I'm home… no hair out of her place, either." Hales closed the front of her robes, tying the sash to keep it from opening up. "You worried over nothing," she told me lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Really?" I asked her, the levity of Isabela's jokes flying out of my mind, "Is that really what you think? I worried over nothing only if everything turned out fine." I gestured to her, the sombre fear of Hales being hurt returning, "Let's be honest, things didn't have to turn out fine."

Hales shrugged flippantly, "I wasn't actually alone, Carver…"

My temper flared but I tried to acquiesce with her point, "You had Mikhail and Anders. And I know that they would never intentionally let anything happen to you but Anders is only a mage. With enough warriors surrounding him, just a few guards or Templars, he couldn't help you." I went to sit beside her, "As for Mikhail, I know he loves you but not enough. He wouldn't put you above his need for revenge, Hales."

That much had become patently clear as the night wore on. At the first instance where Mikhail began to realize that Anora's execution would not be happening right away, he had rebelled. If the argument hadn't stemmed fast enough, if Hales' thoughts had been just a little more scattered, who knew where we would have been by now? To my surprise, Hales did not disagree, "I know that but I couldn't have you there. I needed to appear alone, detached. I needed to seem like I had gotten away from 'the helmet'. She knows you report to Meredith, I'm sure. She might have suspected if you–"

I covered her hands with my own, twisting and linking our fingers together, "I know," I interrupted, "But I could have stayed in the carriage with Anders. When things turned south, I could be a part of that rescue party."

She nodded, "I guess things happened so quickly that I hadn't thought about that." Then a smile tugged at her lips, innocent and lovely, "Do you want to rescue me, Carver?" she asked teasingly.

I brought her face closer to my own, gently kissing her, "Well, I'd prefer not having to do that if it meant you'd stay out of trouble but yes, I suppose I want to be there. I know," I told her with conviction, "that it hasn't always been easy for you. You've had to be independent a lot of the time but I'm here now and I want to take that proactive role beside you for as long as I can. Let me be there for you." Mentally, I thanked Elissa for the words.

"You know I'm powerful, right?" she murmured gently, "You have nothing to worry about."

"Don't I?" I replied, "You always run off into things. I need to be there with you, every step of the way. I won't stop you from doing what you need to do but you aren't alone. It isn't right that you run off to Anora without our entire entourage. Isabela came to help tonight and even she thought it was a bit crazy that you were almost alone. You're powerful, I'll give you that but you're still a mage. I don't want to see you take risks like going up against the Arishok or Corypheus ever again."

"All of us went against Corypheus. I wasn't alone and we didn't even know how big the threat was until too late."

"And I don't want anything to ever take us by surprise like that. Once, sure. Twice, fine. But three times? No. Anora might not be a demon or an old god or a Qunari but she wields politics which is just as bad. Promise me you won't go running off doing something so dangerous again. What if she had a whole army at her home?"

Hales smiled, fingers tracing my jaw, "I guess I've always been a little headstrong about doing things on my own."

"Just a little, huh?" I teased.

"Alright Carver, you've made your point. I'll " she said before sliding her legs into bed, shimmying the robe off and rolling onto her side of the bed. Alright? That was it? This didn't seem like her at all. I asked suspiciously, "Just like that? No more arguments? Huh. And to think, I didn't even need to use Isabela's seduction idea."

She stretched her naked body out over the sheets, which I _resolutely_ ignored and rolled her eyes, "We're not in Lothering anymore, Carver. I'm not about to snipe with you when you've got a good point. Although," she added, "you do realize that sooner or later, your proactive role was going to come, right? I mean, whether anyone wants to admit it or not, we are at war. You will have your own men to lead."

The implications of that sank in, "So…" I trailed a little, "I'm leading men to attack Kirkwall?"

She sat up, her eyes sombre whilst nodding, "I'm hoping it won't be anything too strenuous. After all, if Sebastian is helping us, Kirkwall might surrender fairly easily. Aveline –" she sighed, "Aveline isn't about to sacrifice lives. If we tell her that her surrender means no lives being lost, she will do it. Kirkwall's surrender is assured but…" she trailed off.

I finished for her, "You're worried about Meredith and the Templars," before undressing as well, pulling off the light armour I had own, readying myself for bed.

Hales made a non-committal noise, her voice throaty, "I don't want to talk about politics and war anymore." Despite the long night she must have had, her eyes roamed hungrily over me and traitorously, my body reacted, already hardening from being on display.

"One more question and then I'm done," I told her, hooking my shirt with my index finger and slinging it over my shoulder, "You do realize that we have to be up early tomorrow morning to stage an act with Desmarais, correct? So, we have no time for what you've got in mind?" I wasn't intentionally displaying myself to tease her like Isabela had implied, I told myself, and the question was _mostly_ relevant.

She rose onto her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bed. I will stay _calm_, I told myself, but I knew it was a losing cause. The swells of her creamy breasts were before me, nipples already taut. I could see how her hair was sliding sensually all over her naked back, her bottom curved into the air. I wanted to nibble on it, to sink my teeth onto the supple curves of flesh. "Doesn't look like you want to sleep," she chuckled, her voice smoky and deliberately lowered to entice me, her eyes staring at the bulge hiding behind my breeches.

I shivered from the sound of her voice. My body ached relentlessly and I tried to scold though it came out weak, "And to think, Isabela told me to use my position as your lover to influence your views. First, you agree far too easily and then _you_ try to seduce _me_."

Her fingers touched my chest, sliding along my stomach. Nails found my flesh, lightly scratching. I caught her fingers casually and continued, "You really should sleep. Once the adrenaline wears off, you'll be exhausted." Her only response was smoky laughter and I groaned, "You really are not helping."

"Oh?" She asked, "What should I do to _help_ you, then?"

The air slammed out of my chest as I hissed, "You should... Maker... sleep." She continued to smile, wicked and wanton, blatantly seducing me, "But I'm not tired. I've got all this energy. I couldn't go to sleep. So... I ask again, what should I do to help you?" I wasn't sure if I was exasperated or turned on by the prospect of her seduction. I tried to tell myself I was exasperated. What bullshit. I _wanted_ her and I was torn between allowing her seduction or taking Isabela's suggestion of teasing her for hours to heart.

But when her mouth touched my stomach, her tongue gliding along the ridges of my muscles, I jumped, almost burnt from her touch and forgot my thoughts. She muttered, mockingly absent-minded, "What can I do to _help_ you? Going to bed and sleeping doesn't seem much use…" Her hand grazed the front of my breeches and I grit my teeth. "Maybe I should undo these breeches… maybe you'll be more comfortable." Her fingers pulled, deft and quick, at the drawers that tied them up, too quickly, before I could even think to stop her.

"Fuck, Hales," I swore, partially groaning the words out as I felt myself burst free from restraints.

One of her palms carved the contours of my buttocks, before pressing her hand flat against my flesh, bringing me closer and closer to her. She cupped me, stroked and caressed my shaft, every movement sending shudders of pleasure rippled through my body. Flames swallowed me whole, my teeth clenching at her slow pace, "Woman, you are trying to drive me insane."

"Really?" she laughed, her voice kept innocent and light, "Am I truly?" Her hands glided over my shaft, teasing and gentle until I was beginning to entertain thoughts of begging. I wanted to swear some more at her but looking down, I wasn't sure I had seen anything so beautiful. In candlelight, her hair was dark and mysterious, her eyes deep and fathomless, her eyelashes long and tempting, her face flawless. I could smell her scent, jasmine and night orchids and magic all swirling about me.

Then I forgot everything. Her breath knocked out any conscious thought I could ever have. Her lips were so _soft_ and her mouth… moist and heated, her touches were like hot silk. I forgot how to breathe, my mind liquefied, body trembling from keeping myself from urging forward. I could only watch helplessly, ensnared by each of her motions, crying out as her lips sank deeper down my length. I watched her lips cover me, moving over me with deliberate and sexy suckles, her eyes wicked.

"Fucking Maker!" I called out, "Fuck… Fuck!" as she laughed around me, taunting me, the vibrations consuming me with a need for her that I could barely grasp upon. I caught a fistful of her dark hair, my hips thrusting forward unintentionally, rubbing at her scalp until she hummed and moaned all around me. The grooves of her mouth pressed against my flesh and I groaned out, my head thrown back before pushing her away, not wanting to spend myself so soon.

I took her from the bed, hands spanning her waist and lifted her, pushing her against the closet. "Put your legs around my waist, Hales." I told her, biting at her nipples, my teeth almost harsh but my tongue soothing out any aches. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, settled herself over me, her legs around my waist.

I pushed into her, aggressive and forceful, spearing her completely until she called out my name. I pressed her body against the wood, taking her weight as I stood, rocking my hips up into her. The fire burned, consumed and leapt inside me and she was a fiery heat gripping, holding and drawing me deep. My mouth found hers, brutal and avid, ardent and passionate before I whispered against her neck, "Give me your magic, open up to me."

Hales could deny me nothing. Her sorcery was flushed and warm as it washed over me. I continued to surge into her body as everything became different again. I felt my own pleasure but also hers, intense and shattering her mind. I wanted to feel her fulfilment, wanted to feel it around me and within me with her magic. I wanted everything, her love, her soul, her heart, her goodness and I wanted to keep her safe forever, to protect and please.

As she keened, I laughed in triumph, the obscurity of her magic washing erotically over me. Friction pulled at us both and I could feel her hunger doubling my own. I took her mouth again as I repeatedly took her body, each thrust harder than the last, stronger than the last, more eager, wild and crazy, completely uninhibited.

Then she began to clutch me tightly, her entire body like a string drawn so forcefully she was barely moving. Her moans turned loud and I felt her body clench, felt her body explode like stars, felt her pleasure pulse in me, heard the strained singing of mana release and reach deep into my lyrium. I wanted to curl up and shout, I wanted to thrust into her harder. I wasn't even sure. There was something boiling up inside me, searing me completely, the pleasure running to the very tips of my fingers, to the pads of my toes. I saw lights stringing behind my eyes, my body clenching down, a strange pleasure jolting through me. I could feel it, her climax, I realized but I was feeling it inside _me._ It was spreading right through my body, through my bones and floating up. I felt all warm and dizzy, watched her keen with her climax, felt the spirals of her orgasm tickling all over me. I was coming… but I wasn't. My body felt it but it wasn't mine. I growled roughly, torn between whimpering and loud moans.

I needed to feel my own climax, to be consumed utterly by it. I was still so hard, so ready. I whimpered, still high from her release that had echoed into my body, still needing more pleasure. My breath panted, my lower body trembling with arousal and fury, pumping myself into her at a pace that I could barely control.

I wanted to feel it again, I realized, her pleasure, her climax echoing into me. I wanted to feel her orgasm crashing into her body, pushing my body, her body, further towards the extremes of orgasm.

_Carver... I... I need... I can feel... You... then me... I... _

_Shh... it's alright. I'm here. _

I angled my thrusts, rubbing myself over that hidden part of her that would make her almost _wail_ out in pleasure. Nails bit into my back, teeth at my shoulder. She panted into my neck, hot puffs of breath, chest pressing tight against me as she shuddered into another climax, her entire body strung up and tight. I could feel it, a hot tug right behind my navel. The blood pounding in my head and ears, the beat of her release surging over me like a wave. I felt the heat and saw the colours of her peaking.

_I love you, Carver._

It was her admission that made me wonder whether I could die from the pleasure that wracked my body. We paused for a moment to catch our breaths, allowing the tendrils of the afterglows of climax to reach into us though for me, all that burned was fiery arousal. My belly twitched from the effort of stopping and Hales leaned her head back, out of breath and panting, fingers slowly relaxing against my shoulder blades one by one. But I was still ready, eager and needy. My erection was heavier than I had ever felt and there was a burn in my loins to come. To _release_.

Whatever brief moment of pure completion I had been allowed had mutated back to lust and savagely, I took her body again. I growled in her ear, "You magic is a bloody cocktease," and her out of breath giggle served only to fuel my arousals, "and now I'm going to fuck you until your mind goes numb."

I knew I was close, knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up for long. It was too much, _she_ was too much. Hales squeezed me, the walls tightening around me as I pounded out the last few furious strokes before I heard a hoarse cry, realizing a disconnected second later that it was my own voice calling out in pleasure, as my body soared from pleasure, a volcano erupting inside me.

Eruption. The word never seemed more applicable.

I could feel every single fibre of my being, taut and thrumming, my seed spurting into her depths as I surged again and again until all I could see was endless colours, glorious pleasures and her never ending beauty.

Lacking the strength to continually hold her up against the closet that I had completely forgotten about, the two of us collapsed into bed with her body atop mine, each of us still catching our breaths. My hands idly caressed her hair, smoothing my fingers deep into her curls and stroking continuously. The experience had been unlike anything we had previously shared. I was nonplussed and whimpered pathetically. She nuzzled my chest, sighing deeply.

_Are you alright?_

I wasn't even entirely sure how to answer that question so I just nodded. I had felt her magic before, of course, felt how it slithered into my soul and gave me pleasure as though more hands were caressing my body but it hadn't been like this, an explosion of her own pleasure fed into my own body like my own climax. I was beyond weak from it.

Her voice was soft but tinged with worry, "I felt yours… and mine. That doesn't even make sense."

I smiled down to her, "Really? You're going to worry about giving a guy more pleasure?"

She kissed me gently, "We connected even more than we ever had before."

I reminded her, "You can connect with Anders and Fenris. It isn't surprising that you're mana reached out to my lyrium. Reach into me, Hales. I need you, always need you."

Whatever mental guard I had around my mind, I pushed down, letting her search my mind as she pleased.

Slow purples and blues whirled around us as the sweet press of mana, now sated and warm, pushed into my body. It fused into my lyrium, wrapped around my heart and then I felt it, her boundless love for me, her need to be with me, her aching wants… it crashed into me so powerfully that I was overwhelmed.

I wanted to show her the same but didn't know how to being so lost and distracted in the feeling. I resorted to verbal words, "I love you…"

"I know…" she whispered, "when you open up to me, I can feel it."

Then she kissed me and it was like a revelation. Like a new world. My world. _She was my world._ Love that came endless from both her body and magic, from both mind and soul. I was lost in her arms, drowning and I didn't ever want to come back up for air.

When the flows of her magic slowly ceased and she broke the kiss, I told her with wonderment, "We're as close as two humans can be. You don't need to worry."

She smiled easily, closed her eyes without another word and I listened as her breath evened out.

It wasn't just physical pleasures. She was so much a part of me now that I couldn't wash her away no matter how hard I tried but then again, I never could. Not even back in Kirkwall. When she was around, the emotions we felt was neither entirely hers nor mine so much as it was _ours_. We could never be one without the other.

If I had any doubts about whether she still kept a part of herself away from me, all of them fell away. There wasn't anything in her anymore that didn't belong to me, that hadn't been touched and known by me. Just as there was nothing within me that wasn't hers, too.

When morning came, our exchanged smiles were silent and secretive. In the carriage, Desmarais was nervous, Anders was preparing himself for what mental merge and spell he was about to cast and Hales had her head on my shoulder, relaxed and content, not a care in the world. The nobleman stepped out of the carriage when we arrived on Anora's doorstep, Anders casting a spell of invisibility over himself whilst we waited.

Her eyes were closed, focused, a stream of muttered words sounding from her lips, one of her hands lazily drawing symbols in the air that glowed purple for a moment before fading away. Then her eyes became deep purple, sometimes violet, sometimes plum, swirls of colour where there used to be brown irises and whites of her eyes. "I'm in his mind, seeing through his eyes," she began, her voice was fading and then growing louder, like she wasn't entirely sure how speak in proper volume. Her hands searched for me, flailing for my hands. I caught them in mine, instantly realizing that she couldn't see me. She sighed in relief, "I can't see anything but what Anders sees… this is disconcerting."

"I'm right here," I comforted, "Tell me what you see."

"He's following Desmarais. He's fidgeting. Desmarais, I mean. The servant, the old one, she's asking him to wait in the main foyer."

The pause seemed to linger and Hales clutched my hands tightly, suddenly standing up to quickly, she hit her head on the roof of the carriage. "Ow!" she exclaimed loudly and I smiled, quickly readjusted our positions, leaning her against my body so she could feel safe.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes, I just. Anders is standing and I feel like I should be standing also. Anora is here. She's wearing a bright yellow dress... it clashes a bit with her hair and she's blonde," she commented, "She's holding a book."

"How does she seem? Happy?" I questioned, wanting to get a sense of what Anders was really seeing.

"She's calm, very relaxed and happy. I've never seen her smile like that before."

Her legs began moving, as though she was trying to walk and I rubbed my hands upon her arms to keep her grounded. If the situation hadn't been so serious, it would have been amusing. She shook her head, "Desmarais is handing her the letter. She's ripping it open… reading… reading… Maker, why is she such a slow reader?" Hales cursed impatiently and I tried not to laugh at her tone.

"She's muttering, 'that blasted Princess actually knew!' Of course I knew, stupid bint, I read the bloody letter!" She exclaimed loudly.

"Shhh..." I hushed her, "You need to stop shouting, Hales. Justice thinks all will be well, Anders says that Anora won't think to attack today."

I cautioned, "We should wait until Anders is safe before cutting the connection."

She blinked and made a noncommittal noise, plum wisps beginning to cover her face and body. Her arms began to move, swinging in a motion that Anders habitually followed whenever he walked. I tried to press her arms down towards her body and she murmured, "Anora's gone into her office, she's got a quill in her hand. She's tickling her chin with it… Writing… writing… Wonder what she's writing?"

"You'll find out soon."

We did. Anders soon notified Hales to reverse the spell and I watched the purple plumes fade from her eyes. She shook her head disoriented and told me, "I'd rather not repeat that experience."

Desmarais was in the carriage a few moments later with a strict instruction that he was to send the letter as soon as possible. The letter read:

"Meredith,

I will be Queen soon. It seems your hatred for the Princess is mostly unfounded. She promises to support me to my throne. There will be _no war_ between Ferelden and Kirkwall. Once I am Queen, I will support you. What you want to do with the Princess after that is up to you.

Anora"

Hales chuckled, dark and anticipatory, as she gave the letter back to Desmarais, "Send it immediately."

Anders was instantly worried, "She's planning on killing you and all you want to do is laugh?" I agreed with Anders but shielded my thoughts from Hales.

"What did you expect, Anders?" she asked, her eyes cynical, "Anora isn't about to let anyone have leverage over her for long. Of course she'd try to kill me. But… we have the upper hand. As long as we don't waste it, we'll be fine."

I hoped she was right. All the preparation certainly seemed to go swiftly and smoothly.

The letter was sent and armies were prepared to move. Alistair spent many hours conversing with Sebastian over strategies and placement. Two days later, small groups of men began to march away to Kirkwall. A small army would be sent to march from Starkhaven or sailed from Ferelden towards Kirkwall every day for a week, trying to avoid suspicion. The men would hide outside Kirkwall, keeping a low profile and ensuring no guards cottoned on. They would stay in specific points in the wilderness until Alistair and I made it to Kirkwall whilst Hales and Elissa would focus upon bringing Anora to ruin. Both Hales and Elissa fought tooth and nail upon the subject, hating that they would be left behind but someone was needed to deal with Anora and because this was ultimately Hales' plan, Elissa had no choice but to stay. After all, Hales needed help to prepare the political arena.

It made the night before leaving all the more strained. I made love to Hales, sweetly, slowly, passionately but _fearfully_. Maker, I was so afraid to leave her behind, so afraid to keep her with me. I wouldn't be able to protect her. I could sense her similar worries, her eyes scared and loving at the same time. Her sorcery had almost blown me to pieces. It overwhelmed me and I could feel each fibre of her being tingling with alarm and trepidation, the dread pooling within her at the thought of losing me.

When I left her the following morning, her expression was haunted, too similar to the one she had when I had left for Ostagar so many years ago. I watched her form from aboard the ship, watching her becoming smaller and smaller, feeling like I was ripping a part of myself off from the rest of my body.

But it was only a matter of time before I could make it back to her.

And the job was supposed to be easy, wasn't it?

_Hales_

When Alistair and Carver took ship towards Kirkwall, launching a surprise attack upon the foreign city, my heart sank. I couldn't help that strange feeling from welling up, anticipatory uneasiness crawling through my veins. Sebastian was out in the fray, leading his own men and even Anders and Fenris had joined in. All the important men of my life were out there, fighting for their lives. Even if the battle was supposed to be easily won, I could feel it in my bones – a sense of foreboding that I couldn't shake away. Something that made my sorcery slither into something darker.

Elissa and I spent every waking moment together, if only just to keep each other sane. She had much the same feeling I did and perhaps, it was due to her similar feeling that made me think that maybe, just maybe, it was paranoia rather than some prophetic emotion that had overwhelmed me. She had commented after our respective partners had left, her eyes knowing and significant as they roamed over my face, "He made love to you last night, didn't he?"

I knew what she was asking, what she _wasn't_ asking and nodded, "Yes. He was… well, not rough but urgent. I thought I was going to go crazy… I don't even know why. You and Alistair?" I prompted.

She nodded, "Every time we part, it gets that way." Elissa touched my shoulder, trying to offer me comfort, "When I left him to battle the Architect, he only kissed my cheek in public and then snuck into my room that night." She tried to smile, "It's just nerves and adrenaline."

"I tell myself that too," I replied, watching the ship becoming smaller with every passing second, "but I can't shake off that bad feeling." I shook my head, "I suppose I should be glad that I have Anora to keep me busy for a while."

Elissa chuckled, "You have that luxury."

The implication worried me, "What? You aren't helping me?"

"I will be there but this is your game to play," she said with confidence in her voice, "and both Alistair and I want to give you this experience."

"Thank you, sister."

Two nights before the fateful court day, Elissa, Mikhail and I were prepared. Armed with the two vault keys, we rode to Anora's estate. As per the previous time, I played the distracting party whilst the others snuck in through the tunnels to steal whatever documents were in the vault. Anora and I spent a few hours in her library, discussing future life, the past, Anora's many lovers and I had to wonder if this was what nobles discussed – who each had _tasted_. The idea was rather nauseating. I, of course, told her that she would have to be present in court the following day as I was planning on ruining Alistair there. She was beyond thrilled. During those many hours the dowager Queen and I spent together, Elissa and Mikhail must have made multiple trips between the vault and the carriage for when I finally returned, there were three sackfuls of letters, incriminating documents amongst other blackmail materials. The trip back to the castle was rather cramped.

The next day came for the Princess of Ferelden to hold court, I was pacing in my room. I had to make sure this worked. This had to be pulled off flawlessly. I fiddled with my sleeve as I surveyed myself in the mirror. The dress was truly a work of art. It was a creation of velvet bodice and skirt, the sleeves a navy lace, the colours a gradual gradient of darker blue hues fading to black. Carver's amulet lay proudly above my collar and I fingered it, wondering if he was alright. A knock broke through my thoughts as Elissa poked her head through the gap, "Hales?"

I welcomed her into my room and she nodded approvingly, "That is a good choice but for dramatic flair…" she trailed off as she opened the box, revealing a delicate tiara, "A crown for the Princess is required."

It had been the first time I had worn the crown and it was really lovely. It was a combination of beautiful trinity knots, delicate silvers wired and worked, curled into intricate circles and white moonstones decorated the base of each peak of the crown. It was elegant, graceful and simple. Elissa smiled as she pressed it into my hair, pulling errant curls beneath the silver weight. "There," she said, "Now you are ready for court."

She walked me towards the main throne room where the nobles awaited and said to the guards, "The Princess will have a double door entrance with a proper announce." Then turned to me, "I will watch from the wings above where no one shall see me."

I swallowed, bile rising up my throat at the thought of handling court alone. Her hands were tight on my shoulder, "You will do fine," she pronounced each word clearly before leaving me.

I heard my cue from behind the closed doors, "Announcing the Princess Hales Theirin of Ferelden!" I heard the shuffles of feet as the nobles rose before the doors swung wide open. I strode through with my head held high, nodding my head with grace at some of the more familiar nobles and smiled at Mikhail, who was hooded and hidden behind a pillar, a mere shadow in the courtroom.

Anora was already seated as well, her hair tied up in a bun, readied for the crown. She curtsied as I passed her and I shot her a brief smile to keep up with appearances. I sat upon Alistair's throne, the very middle of the three royal thrones and gestured with a wave of my hand for the nobles to seat themselves.

I leaned back against the hard surface and smiled, smug and haughty, "I am sure that everyone is quite amazed that the Princess, rather than the King, has summoned court. So, let us waste no time with pleasantries and begin on point. I know that many of the nobility have," I gestured whilst searching for words, "made their displeasures of Alistair's ruling quite publicly known and I wonder if the nobles of this court have actually considered the alternative."

There was some awkward shifting amongst them and looked to the shadows on my left, crooking my index finger towards the servants in the shadows. One stepped forward holding a plate with Anora's incriminating letters to Meredith stacked high upon the silver. I told her, "Please distribute these amongst the nobles, if you will," then lowered my voice, "Ensure that Anora does not receive one."

As she stepped towards the wings of the court, handing any letter to one family at a time, I continued to say, "Please, I ask that each of you quell your words and opinions and simply open these letters and read them. I ask that as you read these letters, you stay calm and ask yourselves whether you could rightfully support someone of such traitorous quality to the throne."

There were hushed murmurings; gasps of shock, curses of outrage, pointed stares to Anora which she believed were supportive looks rather than disbelieving glares. She turned to me and nodded with respect, smiling almost brightly. I almost smirked at her naivety.

When the nobles began to quieten down, I stood from the throne and asked, "It is a simple question that demands a simple answer. Will you support such a person?"

The shouts were not of coherent words but rather just shouts and ramblings of negatory responses. I cried out, "What will be their punishment?"

This time, the responses were clearer, "Death!" "Execution!" "Imprisonment!" and such were thrown about. "Wonderful," I said whilst signalling to the guards, "If you'll please clap the irons upon the Dowager Queen Anora."

They came towards her as her jaw slackened from disbelief. When they held her arms behind her back, she began to shout affronted abuse at me, lowering herself to the ground in the effort of keeping the guards from dragging her away, "What is this? You bitch! You said you would –"

I interrupted her, cold anger shining through my eyes and voice, "Did you really think that I would support you when you were allied with Meredith, a woman who would see me dead in an instant?" I hissed through clenched teeth, towering above her whilst she was upon her knees, "Did you think that I wouldn't attempt to go through your vault, take your evidence and blackmail materials and use them against you?"

I laughed, "Did you think that you were the only one who was using Desmarais?"

She glared at the court, "You will all regret this! This, here, is your Princess! You claim me capable of treachery! Hear what she says! She would use the same methods as I and will be no better! This _bitch_ promised to betray her brother and now, she betrays me!"

I myself until my face was inches from hers, "Were you really so naïve as to think that I would betray my brother for you?"

Anora laughed, her voice edged with poison, "You will never be able to protect Ferelden. I have insurance. Already, I have someone who will send a letter to Meredith. She will burn you to the ground, witch!"

I smiled at her, almost chilling, "Of course you do. Isn't that why Starkhaven and Ferelden's men have been marching towards Kirkwall the last two weeks?"

Anora was finally silent. The nobles were completely quiet, all of them shocked by both the passion and ice in my voice. They were expecting someone who would be much more indifferent as I had behaved. I waved Mikhail from the shadows and I asked Anora, "Do you recognize Mikhail de Silva, Anora? I do believe that whilst you killed your lover and the rest of his family, you failed to kill the de Silva son!"

Anora's face blanched white, her stutters finally quietened completely. Her lips mouthed the name and comprehension dawned upon her. Fear echoed in her blue eyes. I motioned to Mikhail and his mouth curled into a cruel smile, his daggers lifted into the air. There was a loud swish, a blurry movement of his hand and everyone watched as Anora slumped to the floor, watching her choke upon her own blood, her death long and drawn out. Mikhail absorbed each moment, watching her suffocate and cough, her hands struggling against the guards to grapple at her throat.

And though Anora deserved her death, I felt a tinge of sadness. Mikhail had changed but then… so had we all, in the face of adversity.

The nobles made sickened noises, some of them clutching at their own throats to stem the bile that probably rose in each of them. As Anora finally gave up on her breath, her body shivering to a halt and slumping limp upon the floor, I motioned with a tilt of my head for the guards to take the body away and Mikhail melted back to the sides of the room. Though I spoke quietly, the nobles heard each of my words with poignant clarity, "The Crown of Ferelden does not tolerate treason."

Each of them nodded, all too fearful for their lives to continue. I gestured to the other servants who came forward, a sackful of other documents poured out onto the throne floor. I pointed to the papers, "I am certain that Anora had much to hold against each and every one of you. We are all human and we make mistakes. That I am certain. However, in the end, I want only what is best for Ferelden. As I see it, each of you has two options. Those not in support of King Alistair will leave Ferelden and those willing to swear loyalty to King Alistair, we start on a clean slate."

One of the Barons stepped forward, "Princess, many of us are in support of the King and made sounds of displeasure only because we were forced to do so."

I nodded, "That is fair. I ask those not in support to leave now and I will not pursue them. This is your only chance." Unsurprisingly, no one stood. No one left. I smiled, "Very well," and threw a fireball at the letters, watching the pile of parchment burn away until nothing remained.

A noble asked, "Are we really at war?"

Elissa answered from above, her voice reaching out as I began to tire, "Yes, we are but rest assured it will be a mostly simple victory. We are prepared and Kirkwall is not. If there are no more questions, you are all dismissed."

The nobles understood the hidden message. Leave, with or without your questions answered. When the throne room emptied, I slumped against the throne. Elissa sat beside me and held my hand in hers, "You did well."

I nodded, "Now we wait."

_Alistair_

The winds were in our favour and what was originally estimated as a two week journey on board a ship was only one and a few days. Something like that, time aboard a ship makes your perception funny. Most of the time was spent strategizing, after all.

Fenris was surprisingly talented considering his seemingly brutal nature. I picked him as the sort of fellow to throw strategy to the wind and just kill blindly but he had some pretty good ideas about leading an army of men. Anders' talent was much easier to pick. After all, he was a mage on the run and combined with the fighting experiences with Elissa, I was certain he could hold his own amongst a group of men. Carver was a different beast altogether. He was better at working alone, leading a small group of people rather than a large army. Perhaps, it was the shared Templar experiences that made us closer, or perhaps it was due to my sister but I knew that he and I would fight back to back against the rest of them, if that was even necessary considering our surprise attack.

In our spare time though, I noticed how surly Carver could be. He sulked whilst leaning against the banisters of the ship, brows furrowed and glaring out at the open ocean. I joked, "Come on Carver, the water isn't about to dry up no matter how long you spend scowling at it."

He barely spared me a glance and I thought to myself that Carver was a real counterpart to Hales' generally non-surly nature. It was then that it dawned upon me. My sister was the reason for his churlish mood. First time apart since becoming lovers and all that. I remembered when Elissa had to leave to deal with more darkspawn, with the Architect, with the Mother. The fear I felt was... suffocating!

Carver snarled, "I don't even know what is wrong with me. I _know_ she's fine. Hales is good with everything she does. Her plan is almost foolproof. Anora doesn't stand a chance. She's got more to worry about me than I do about her. I could tell she feels that worry from the way we - " He fisted hands into his hair as I stood about awkwardly, really not wanting to know about my sister's _performance_, as Elissa had once put it to Leliana, in bed. I patted his shoulder awkwardly, "Right. Awkward. Unlike the women, I just -," I fidgeted with my gauntlet, "The point is maybe you shouldn't worry. She's fine. This will all turn out great."

Carver turned to face me, his eyes narrowed with indecision though his tone was brusque, "I'm not all too interested in talking to my lover's brother about how I keep his sister satisfied in the bedroom," I winced and grimaced until he said, "Fortunately, that wasn't really what I was referring. It's related but not what I was referring to."

Curiosity got the better of me, "I have no idea what you are talking about so just, spit it out."

"I was talking about her magic. It goes a little out of control when we –" he broke off and gestured meaningfully, "It's like we're connected."

Both of us winced at the choice of words as he groaned out, "No! I mean, magically speaking."

"You're not a mage, Carver," I thought to remind him.

"I know that!" He scowled at me, "but her magic runs through her and into me. I can feel her _emotions_ through her sorcery. I know how upset she felt. I can hear her thoughts. We talk without speaking."

I forgot the awkwardness of the subject, "So it isn't just as simple as pining away for her? You can _feel_ her emotions and wait, what? You can _talk_ to her?" I gestured significantly.

He nodded, "Her emotions double mine," and turned back to the waters, "If I feel scared, her fear doubles mine. If she misses me, it settles into me and my own feelings become even more volatile. It isn't just that though. She and I can talk in our minds. We can connect our mana and lyrium and we can speak directly without verbal words. Being without her, being unable to connect with her, I feel like –" he couldn't word it.

I finished for him, "Like you are missing your sword arm." I was astounded! Hales had never mentioned how deep her connection with Carver went. Though I had heard stories from Isabela and the others that Carver's Templar abilities did not affect Hales in the way they were supposed to, I had never suspected that her powers allowed speech and communication.

Carver shrugged, "When she's around, there's nothing to deal with but now that we're apart…"

"So, you know what she's feeling right now?" I asked, genuinely intrigued.

"No," he explained, "I can't feel her if we're not close together or in the same room but when we are, her emotions double mine. Even afterwards, my emotions are more extreme in degree, a little more volatile but I haven't had any reason to feel anything negative until now."

It wasn't as bad as I had previously assumed but I knew that it couldn't be easy. He continued, "It's a double-edged sword. Her powers, I mean. Being able to affirm her love and trust is wonderful but I hadn't thought about how I'd feel without her beside me. I'd be scared to have her beside me but I'm scared not having her here with me."

I comforted, "It'll be over really soon."

When we arrived along the borders of Kirkwall, Anders sent bright flares into the sky. Every few meters as he walked, bright colours would fly into the sky and explode into a mirage of rainbow. The men would know to march. Sebastian greeted us along the wilderness, "Alistair. Carver. I have men surrounding the Keep and barracks, ready whenever you are."

We briefly discussed our strategies, keeping the Gallows and the Keep firmly enclosed by men such that Kirkwall's defences would be utterly encompassed. Sebastian also offered, "I have spoken with Aveline as well, making her aware of the situation. The guard will not attack and will join us against the Templars. There is no doubt in my mind that the city will surrender."

With that, we marched into the city like it was ours for the taking. It was our first political war and I was determined to see us succeed. Outside the Gallows, Meredith stepped out with her army of Templars. Something about the woman made me want to shudder. Creepy.

She shouted, "What is the meaning of this? King Alistair, you would bring war to our city?"

I shouted, equally as loud, "Do not play me for a fool, Knight-Commander. Anora has allied herself with you and we know of your plans to attack Ferelden. Anora has been properly dealt with and now, it is your turn. We will harm no one of this city. We ask only that you surrender and step down!"

Her eyes trained upon Carver, "You!" She sneered, "You betrayed me! You were supposed to report this to me and yet, you chose otherwise."

Carver was calm, "I was never on your side. Did you truly think I would betray my own lover for you?"

"I will see you pay for your transgressions! You, your King and your _precious_ Champion will die by my hand!"

Carver stated, "If you care for Kirkwall the way you have often described, step down, Meredith and surrender yourself for your city." It was a smart line really.

Meredith snarled, "Never!" With her sword wavering in the air, she ordered her men, "Attack!"

"No! Stand down!" A Templar stepped forward, a familiar man with light brown hair and brown eyes moving towards Meredith. Colin? Was that his name? I remembered him from the mage tower in Ferelden… No, Cullen. That was it. Cullen. The Templars did not move a muscle.

"Knight-Captain, how dare you disobey my specific command?" Meredith snarled, her voice more and more grating as she realized her imminent defeat.

Cullen told her, "The guards have already stood down, they support and fight with King Alistair. Kirkwall has been defeated before a war has begun. If all that is required is that you step down, I agree with Ser Carver, you must surrender yourself for this city!"

Her face was an expression of scorn and hatred, screwed up with disdain, "I will _never_ stand down!"

Cullen's sword was at her throat in an instant, "Then you force my hand, Meredith. I strip you of your title, finding you unfit and improper to rule over Kirkwall. The Templars will now obey me and I order them to stand down and for you to surrender yourself for actively attempting to assist another in committing treason."

Meredith's eyes were a blaze of red and her body pulsed with something I knew was magical. With her sword in hand, the point was directed at me and she screamed, "Never!" as she charged towards me like she was practically flying.

It was so quick. I was knocked over and watched as Carver took the blow, his sword deflecting hers as both struggled against one another. A pulse of what appeared to be red mana issued from her and all of us fell back. Fenris, Carver and I attacked her, three to one, uneven and unfair but necessary at the time. Clangs of metal, hisses and grunts of pain as sharp metal sliced through flesh, she moved so quickly, like she knew our next moves. She could deflect in an instant and though many Templars joined in the fight, we were outmatched. We needed something more than swords and armour. Nothing we hit her with damaged her even slightly.

Fenris shouted, "Anders! The lyrium idol on her sword hilt!"

Though I couldn't be sure, I knew the implication. Her powers came from the strange trinket around her sword hilt. I looked towards Carver and both of us charged at her, keeping her sword locked between the two of ours, letting her struggle against the both of us at the same time. Sebastian's arrows whistled through the air just as she broke free, sending us off balance three paces backwards.

There was a soft thump as a large piece of the idol broke off and fell to the ground, a piercing scream of defeat and anger, a clang of metal as I was shoved aside from Carver yet again and then silence as a red trail streaked across the sky. Suddenly, all was quiet.

Anders shocked cry made ice settle in my gut, "Where's Carver?"

I looked to my right and Carver was gone. She had taken him. That was the only conclusion. Had she meant to take me? Or perhaps both of us. Suddenly, it was too clear what was happening. Meredith meant to lure us to her, lure Hales.

It was a trap, one I couldn't ask Hales to enter and yet, I knew she was the only one who could defeat her.

Hadn't I just told Carver that it would be all over soon?

I couldn't have been more wrong.

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><p>AN: Sorry this took so long! As always, please R&R!

Love, Ann


	21. Secret Tortures

**Chapter 21 – Secret Tortures**

_Hales_

I woke from a light doze when I heard someone calling out my name. Alistair? I thought groggily, is he back already? Then I realized with a start, the mirror!

His face was ashen, tired and burdened and I frowned, asking him, "Was the war unsuccessful? Didn't our plan-"

"Hales!" his voice was sharp like a whip before he sighed, frustrated and sad, "You need to sit down."

My heart pounded with fear as I babbled, "Is Carver –"

"Sit down, Hales." He repeated and I did, knowing in my heart already that something was very wrong. The images were already in my mind. Carver injured, dead, bleeding and away from me. My breath sliced in and out of me.

"I don't know how to tell you this, sweetheart but… Carver was taken."

"Taken?" I screamed, "How?" The tears came already as my chest tightened.

His voice was anguished and his face tightened into a painful expression, "He pushed me aside. I think Meredith meant to take me but he pushed me aside and she left. Hales – she…she's a mage or at least, she became one. That lyrium idol you found from the Deep Roads? She had it and she drew power from it. She took him and just _flew_ away. Hales… I'm so sorry. It was my fault. I should have -"

I closed my eyes, grief overwhelming me but I still had sense left in me, "It isn't your fault, Alistair." I managed to sob out, knowing that Carver was protecting Alistair rather than Alistair pushing Carver into the fray. It barely registered that Meredith had the lyrium idol. I whispered, "Is he…"

"No! Not yet. I don't think Meredith meant to take him or me if she wasn't about to use him as leverage. I have armies of men following that red trail she's left behind but… Hales, we need you here." Alistair said to me, his eyes warring and conflicted, "If we have any chance of finding Meredith, we need you here. I know it's a trap but if we want to find Carver and Meredith, you need to be here. I don't think anyone can go against her powers, not without you."

The mirror was passed until Anders was facing me, his expression equally as grave, "You need to listen to me very carefully."

I shook my head, interrupting him through tears, "If… If I want to find Carver, I need to be on a shi-"

"There's a way for you to get here. It's risky but it'll be instantaneous." Anders told me with a harsh tone, "You need to be here. Now. Or else Carver will never make it."

I heaved, a wail whining out from my throat and he told me, "Go to my room. In the closet is a thick tome with the word 'Sorcery' on the front cover. Go."

My mind cleared. I had the slim chance of saving Carver. No matter my grief, I had to focus on saving him. My legs carried me swiftly to Anders' room and I put the mirror on the floor, tore open the closet, throwing clothes over my shoulder as I found the tome. "I've got it," I shouted to the mirror and Anders continued, "It's a book of spells that sorcerers can use. You need to find one that can transport you to here."

I flipped through the pages, scanning through the contents page for teleporting spells. When I found it, I ran my fingers to the page and lifted huge sections of the book to hasten my finding the page. It was a complicated weave of lines, strange signs and symbols that I could barely begin to decipher. "I found it, Anders but I don't know about this. This is really complicated." As I read through the instructions, his only reply was, "You need to do this if you want to find Carver."

It was different to the other spells I had previous cast. Those were the remembering of simple images, a small spider web of lines rather than a forever of curling and erratic patterns. Anders called out, "Hales?"

I nodded to myself but answered, "I'm here. I'm reading." As I continually looked at the symbols, the instructions on the margins required my drawing out the symbols on a flat surface. With a piece of chalk, I began drawing the complex curls along the wooden walls. The trinity to symbolize unity. An archway to symbolize a door. A five-pointed star to symbolize power. Curls of eternity to symbolize the hold of sorcery within my body. Along the way, I began to chant the words from the book, arcanum littering from my lips focusing upon Alistair and Kirkwall.

"Salio vello, salio urgeo, salio itero. Salio vello, salio urgeo, salio itero. Salio vello, salio urgeo, salio itero."

The symbols glowed, purple then blue then white. It was like a sheen of pearly sparkle, just as the book had said it would look. I called out to the mirror upon the floor, "Anders? I think – I think I might have done it."

Anders reminded me, "You need to talk to Elissa. Hurry." He disconnected and picking up the mirror, I ran towards Elissa's room where I was certain she would be resting. I burst in without ceremony and she gaped at my heaving form, "What in the Maker?"

"No time to explain," I huffed out, "Carver was taken by Meredith. I've got a teleporting spell ready in Anders' room to take me to Kirkwall. Here, take this," I thrust the mirror at her, "Keep it with you at all times and safe."

She asked no more questions but followed me as I went back to the portal in Anders room. Elissa embraced me and said as firmly as she could, "Be safe and bring Carver home." I nodded and hugging the tome of sorcery that I had found in Anders' closet to my chest, I strode through the portal with my eyes closed, thinking of Alistair the entire time.

I didn't dare open my eyes until I heard Alistair's voice in my ear and his arms around my shoulders, "Hales…" he trailed off, his voice full of concern and torment. When my eyes finally opened, I realized that I had done it. I managed to do a portal spell. I was in Kirkwall. I was with Alistair and Carver – I broke down into wracking sobs, tears of terror welling up. Alistair held me to his chest, continually muttering in my ear, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

I heard Anders and Fenris in the distance, giving us some privacy and then Sebastian's thick brogue cutting across the clearing, "The men have marked the paths as they follow Meredith's trail. Eventually, she must – Hales?" he came to me in a rush, his hands grabbing at my shoulders, "How?"

I touched his chest gently, embracing him. I was happy to see him, just not in those circumstances as Anders answered, "Portal spell. She used her sorcery." He came towards me and took the tome, "It was supposed to be your birthday present… but then –", he broke off with an exasperated sigh.

Then I heard it, that mystical song humming to me from a distance. I shook my head, remembering the lyrium idol, "I can hear the idol… that lyrium idol… the song…"

Fenris took a large piece of red lyrium from his pocket, covered and wrapped in cloth, "Sebastian managed to break a major piece off the idol." I took it from him, watching the red glow spike and jump about.

Anders shrugged, "I don't know what we want to do with it. I know Sandal did something with the piece you found at Bartrand's house and we could go see your uncle but –"

I shook my head, interrupting him, listening to the enchanting but tainted music that echoed in my ears, "Sandal used what he could to make a rune but the rest he just burned away in the fireplace." The song was seductive, the kind that lured you towards darkness, to wallow and revel in evil and asked, "Can you hear that? The music?"

Alistair shook me, "Stop listening to it. I rather my sister not become another Meredith. I say we follow the path marked out now and just burn this piece of… thing."

"I can hear it," answered Anders, "It's faint but I suspect you can hear it better because of your sorcery. I agree with Alistair though, I don't think it is a good idea to leave it lying around."

My mind spoke differently. Meredith had great power. What if I wasn't strong enough? It sang to me, luring me with sinful temptations. _Come…use me… find my other piece… succumb to the power…_ "I can… I can use it," I said, each syllable sounded out slowly from being so distracted. _Use me… kill… maim… she's got your love… use me to kill her…_"I can use this to find Carver… use it to kill Meredith. I'd be… powerful."

I felt it wrenched from my grasp, Fenris snarling as he threw it harsh against the ground. I felt my trance shake away, "What? Fenris – No, I –"

He shoved me against a tree, his fingers biting into my shoulder, "No! I will _not_ watch you become a monster! An abomination!"

Desperation fuelled me to making false promises, "I can resist it!"

"No, you can't!" Sebastian cried out, "You could barely resist it just then!"

"Yes, I can," I insisted as the others shook their heads, "I can save Carver with this!"

Anders told me, "You have enough power!" and from within him, I could feel Justice rebelling against me.

Alistair scooped up the idol and I watched his movements with beady eyes, how he slid into one of his many pockets. "I don't want you using this unless you have to," he said resolutely, "so we'll compromise. We'll take it with us and destroy it when we're done with Meredith."

But already, my mind was dissenting from the idea. I could still hear the song, feel its power, sense its touch and because of Carver, I _wanted_ to be a part of it. If it meant saving Carver, did it matter that it was evil? It was poisoning my mind and I didn't even realize it. The others weren't so affected.

We rode upon horses, following the marked paths of Sebastian's men. As we rode, Alistair tried to recount to as much detail about the happenings and how Carver was taken but I could barely concentrate upon his words. All I could think of was how to save Carver and that _how_ was the idol, hidden deep in Alistair's pocket. In my distracted mind, I nearly forgot my own powers, and the connection Carver and I shared. I could have searched for him myself, if only the idol hadn't been around.

I felt my mana syncing in beat and time to the music of the idol, felt my powers growing in strength from darkness rather than light. Though I noticed, with somewhat of paranoia nervousness, that the men seemed to notice how quiet I was becoming or how Justice was flaring up with righteous anger at my obvious caving, I did nothing but continue to let my power grow.

Meredith would know pain like _nothing _else in this world.

_Carver_

It was as though Meredith were some kind of giant bird. I could feel claws holding my shoulders, talons digging deep into my flesh. It ripped right through my muscles and knowing that I could either drop to my death or wait, my arms hung onto scaly feet or legs. She was travelling so quickly that I could barely see. I was held such that I could just see the men pursuing us, following the red trail that she was leaving behind. Everything was a blur but occasionally, when the blurs of black seemed to trail behind, I loosened what pieces of armour I could, trying to leave a trail for them to follow.

It was the lyrium pulses that killed though. Humans can't take lyrium, not in raw form and each pulse was burning my flesh, the back of my neck and edging towards my face. Each push of power was like acid upon my skin and veins, peeling and scraping the flesh away, melting at muscle and sinew.

I was in agony. It stung my eyes, burned away the flesh of my cheeks. When I looked up, I watched my hands turn into red muscles rather than pale skin. I was bleeding away, the lyrium eating at me for I could not touch it. And the hatred, I could feel it the way I could feel Hales' love when her magic bound to me. Meredith was everything Hales was not.

I felt my world fade in and out, everything going up in smoke, blazing and fiery around me. Pain surrounded me, heated sizzling of sinew and muscle as I screamed with the constant torture though it was apparently not even intentional.

My mind was slowly degenerating. I could feel how each thought took more effort, how the pain was distracting me more and more, how everything was agony. I became limp from the energy it took just to keep breath, to keep myself alive. All thoughts left me. All that remained was that I had to stay alive, stay strong.

Hales. Hales. Hales. It had taken so long to be together, I couldn't let her go after only a few weeks of happiness.

Then I felt myself lowered to the ground, watched as the men following us explode into a mass of quivering flesh, a large pool of blood marking the road. I was helpless, defeated and weak as I felt myself dragged to a tree, strung up to its branches by my wrists and finally, finally, when all I knew was pain, my world finally blackened and I knew nothing.

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><p>AN: Short chapter but next chapter should be posted within the next few days! That's a definite promise!

Please read and review!

Love, Ann


	22. Secret Antipathies

**Chapter 22 – Secret Antipathies**

_Hales_

Fear. Hatred. Panic. Disgust. Horror. Cruelty. Terror. Malice. My emotions warred between the need to save Carver and the need to make Meredith pay.

We travelled for what seemed like hours upon a dirt path, sticks and indents engraved along the earth. Occasionally, a piece of Carver's armour marked the road Meredith had taken and each time, my heart seemed to fall further down my chest into my stomach. Each time, as my fingers would brush upon the armour, I would feel just enough of Carver to know he was just alive. Then the connection would snap shut and each time, the idol seemed to sing all the more louder, all the more tempting.

It was beginning to darken, the sun setting along the horizon, the red of the sky echoing the malevolence of my heart. Then the red of blood was pooling, dried along the dust, broken limbs and torn legs decorating the path. It was already browning, the red staling into a burgundy. It was the end of the path. The bloodied roads could be in an infinite amount of directions and I couldn't feel Carver, couldn't focus myself or perhaps Carver was too weak for my mana to bond with his lyrium. Neither was a good sign.

Alarm rose in me, the helplessness of the situation burning right through me. This was the end and where Meredith could be, we couldn't know. I felt the song singing in my ears, calling to me, a temptation of help and in my weakness, I succumbed. I had no other option.

I turned to Alistair, my eyes begging for him to understand. The idol floated of its own accord from his pocket, shooting towards me like I was a beacon of mana. Perhaps, I was. It hung in the air in front of it and I felt... transfixed.

Alistair voice was sharp, "Hales. No."

I managed to pull my eyes from the idol towards him, fighting Justice's need to overwhelm me, avoiding Fenris' shuttered glare, "We don't have a choice," I said quietly, trying to sound calmer than I felt, pointing to the group of limbs before us, "That is our final mark and from here, Meredith could be anywhere. We have no real choice."

His voice reverberated with disappointment, "I know about your connection with Carver. Why can't you use that? Do not succumb to the idol just yet."

I shook my head, "Carver and I have to close enough in physical distance for me to focus upon him. As it is, I know he is alive. Just. I could feel it when I touched his armour but the connection keeps snapping shut."

Anders offered with a wince, "It is possible that the lyrium in Carver's body, so used to magic, may be keeping him on the brink of alive. He may not have enough energy to bond to Hales," but then cautioned, "Still, don't give into the idol. If you have to –" he broke off, Justice fighting against his words.

The men blanched at the implication, Fenris looked particularly horrified. He snarled at me, "If you touch that idol, I will-"

"You'll do what, Fenris?" I asked, "You'd do nothing better were Anders in Carver's position."

Alistair ran his hands through his hair, four tufts stood. Yes, it had been a stressful day, hadn't it? He said reluctantly, "This isn't what I want, Hales. I fought with myself about telling you."

I frowned, "Why? Carver is my lover."

He replied, "Because you charge headfirst into things in order to save people and sometimes, you lose yourself pretty badly. Carver pulled you back after Quentin and I turned my head the other way when your Mother died. I turned my head away from the way you killed Quentin, but this is tainted magic. The consequences are much more severe."

The others stayed quiet as I nodded. I understood his concern. Quentin's impact upon me had been emotional withdrawal and hatred, what would happen if that was mixed with tainted magic? Would I become an abomination?

He looked to me, honey-brown eyes saddened and frightened for me, "Who will pull you back from being controlled? You're my sister. I can't let you do this."

The idol continued to hang in front of me and I stared between it and Alistair. I said bitterly, "I don't have a choice. This is _Carver_, Alistair. Carver!"

Fenris swore under his breath, before offering, "There may be a solution." He looked towards Anders, a silent communication of his intent. Anders nodded immediately and Fenris commented without missing a beat, "The three of us could remain linked as she communicates with that... _thing_," he said with distaste, eyeing it like he was on the verge of smashing it to bits, "It would keep her anchored and Justice _may_ be able to repress some of the more insidious effects."

"No!" I shouted, "No!" The idol was my responsibility, my choice! I was _not_ going to let anyone else become affected or corrupted. I argued angrily, the idol partially influencing me, "If I succumb, it will take all of you to kill me. Ferelden is at stake here, we cannot –"

Alistair interrupted, eyes narrowed, "I am _not_ giving you another option. You promised Carver you would stop running straight into danger knowingly without him. He isn't here but that doesn't mean your promise doesn't stand. You cannot do this alone."

Couldn't I? I wondered for a moment what would happen if I took the idol and followed it anyway, leaving Alistair behind me. Somehow, that idea struggled and twisted into my gut deeper than the idol's power. Could I truly trust in them to help me with this? This was Alistair. But what if Anders and Fenris were hurt? What if?

Sebastian chose the moment to spur his horse towards me, eyes resolutely ignoring the idol, "You once said you'd trust in me to have your best interests in mind and heart. We will find him. But not if the price is your soul."

I heard the words, and what _wasn't_ in the words. I was being given an ultimatum. I could take the idol and run with the wind. Knowing them, they would follow me anyway but I knew I would be sacrificing the trust and love shared between me and my family.

Against the idol's influence, I heard the whispers of voices.

"_You love very deeply but when will you let yourself be loved?"_

"_I took a vow. Magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base."_

"_Promise me you won't go running off doing something so dangerous again."_

"_I will let no one say that any magic of mine let a demon into the world."_

I managed a weak smile and nodded, reaching quietly for Anders and Fenris, my anchors amidst the storm. Everyone collectively let off the breath they had been holding. I felt Justice flood my mind, instilling calm and peace to soothe the pervasive grip of the idol. When Fenris nodded significantly, I took hold of the idol.

It was like being tickled by flames of seduction, evil and all that was dark and tempting in the world. I felt my eyes change, a strange stinging sensation coming over me, like I was covered in tingling mint and menthol. Hatred was strong and inevitable, taking over my body and mind in an instant. It tasted of coal and fire, infernal bonds sinking into my soul.

Alistair said, "Careful. You're eyes are turning a little red, which is a little too much like Meredith's for my ease of mind."

Meredith. Carver. The two names were like large banners sitting side by side in my brain. Bitterness rose in my throat, not quite bile, something sick, like death.

_Carver isn't alive…_it sang to me_. Carver must be dead by now. Meredith wouldn't keep him alive. But revenge… that is yours… that can still be yours. Kill her… Kill her…_I tried to resist its call, trying to remind myself that Carver could still be alive.

Fenris spat at me, "Stop listening to it! Carver is _not_ dead."

Alistair nodded gravely, "Meredith needs leverage. She wouldn't kill him yet."

Still, my words were rough, "Doesn't mean she won't have to go through much more than simple death."

I took point, reared my horse back and spurred him on as the idol connected me to the rest of the pieces still upon Meredith's sword. Anders and Fenris came up to either side of me, Alistair and Sebastian behind us as we all raced west towards Carver _and_ Meredith.

Justice kept whatever hold he could upon me, wave after wave of righteous vengeance covering the perverted revenge. I tried to focus upon him but I knew the idol was poisoning me. My mana was slowly turning purple and Fenris' markings were no longer glowing blue, but a soft plum.

But all resistance flew out of my mind the moment my eyes lay upon a body, hanging from the tree by the wrists. I knew it was Carver. When a woman sees her lover bound, broken, mangled and appearing dead, tied up to a tree, there is misery, grief, endless desolation and heartache. His skin was badly burned, all of it bumpy and red, bleeding and scabbed at the same time. His face… was not his at all. It was crusty, bleeding and I could barely make out his features.

Without thinking, my magic went to the manacles, undoing them, unlocking them and letting his body float very gently to the ground. I tried to bond with his lyrium, tried to reach into him but each time, I was shut down.

Fenris' voice was a snarl at the back of my mind, voice insensitive and rough, "He's dead."

I heard Alistair's sharp intake, shocked to hear Fenris deliver his message in such a manner.

_Yes... Dead... but you need not be. You could avenge your lover's death. _

Dead. He had to be. I screamed, a piercing sound of loss that shrieked through the trees. Hatred, revulsion and loathing reigned. Through tears, I distantly heard Justice crying out in my head, "No! Do not give into the taint!" but I pushed him away.

Anders, Fenris and I shared a heated glance and our three voices shouted in unison, "Meredith!" but we heard nothing. Fenris snarled, I sneered, readying my magic, now hateful and red. Even Anders did not seem unaffected, despite Justice's presence in his mind.

_Use me to summon her..._ The idol spoke to me directly. _The idol is one. We can all be one._

My connection deepened with the idol and I placed Carver away from my mind. I had nothing but time to mourn for him. For now, I had to deal with Meredith and I wiped the tears away. I pulled her towards us, tempting her with magic and power.

Swirls of red materialized, blonde hair formed, then the rest of her appeared within a blink of an eye. Her eyes were completely white, no blues or irises and her hands were talons, bird-like, though she still gripped her sword with ease, her body and armour glittering with lyrium. She scorned, The Champion has arrived. I was waiting for you."

A ball of red and violet mana swirled in my hands, pure power, and I threw it at her. She dodged it neatly as she taunted, "I will kill you! Even if Kirkwall has fallen, I shall take you! You, the thorn in my side, always undoing my plans, tainting the Templars beside me, tainting Kings and Princes, I will rid this world of you! All of you!"

I replied easily, "Take your best shot. You are no more armed than we are."

Meredith waved her 'hand' towards the hilt of her sword, where the idol was gone. Justice warned me, "She has taken to the idol. They are now one. She is as powerful as you, if not more so."

She sped towards us and we rushed up to her in a heartbeat. I heard swords clashing, arrows flung and Anders' lightening spark in the trees. Balls of energy were thrown, mana pulsing like a tsunami across a beach. The trees lit up with colour. Splashes of red and whites were angrily pushed from her body. Pools of violet and red were hastily thrown from my own. Both of us moved at speeds unknown to any species of creature. I gestured my sorcery in the air, hands waving at quick motions and she was doing much the same.

We were evenly matched, sorceress against Templar, both with the same powers, with the same tools. Lightening bolts stemmed from both of us, coursing through our veins and through our fingertips. She was using her lyrium idol and I was using mine. We were one for one, evenly matched and yet, the others were fast weakening, the swirls of lyrium would do to them what it had done to Carver.

I realized with a start – I needed to steal the rest of her lyrium idol. I needed to steal all of _her_. Otherwise, we would _all _die. We simply weren't strong enough to kill her, not without the idol's power working for her. I pulsed a swirl of magic into the air, easily knocking everyone but Meredith and I off their feet. They needed to be out of here, out of the way and I pulled a circular dome around only the two of us. I could still feel Anders and Fenris at the back of my mind, could hear their shouts of denial but I knew, I couldn't let them die.

But if I took the lyrium, I would be absorbing the idol and what then?

This wasn't something I could even do alone. I forced more powers out of me, pushing all the mana I could through my fingertips and she followed suit, both of us at an impasse, both unable to move, both unable to defend or attack, both of us just pooling power and mana about us, red, white and purple.

The idol sang in our ears, a choir of jarring chords and clashing notes. Prangs of metal echoed uncomfortably in my ears and pain sang in my head. It was as though a grate was scraping along my mind and I held my head in my hands, trying to fight against the feeling.

I reached for Justice, asking him if he could help. His words were severe, "I can do little aside from overwhelm your mind until you become temporarily Tranquil. It will be enough time to dispatch you but you must remove yourself from Fenris or I may injure him."

There was no alternative, I had to take death. The idol whispered otherwise.

_Accept the pain… accept it and use it to hurt her… _The idol was in my mind, teaching me to master my pain by accepting it. _Enjoy the pain… revel in it_…_Bleed upon me and we shall become one. The process is painful… but soon, you will be powerful. Bleed yourself. Absorb me and it will achieve nothing! You will destroy me!_

But blood magic wasn't something I could accept. My mind pushed against the pain, for it scraped me from within and nothing I could do would thrust the feeling away.

_No! No! No! No! Use me… Bleed upon me. _

My hand was in the air, all my energies focused upon attracting lyrium to me. Powders and fragments began to rise to my hand, breaking off from Meredith.

_Use me! Don't destroy me!_

My large chunk of idol was wavering to my hand, floating an inch away from my skin.

_No! No! No! No!_

The words of the idol sounded in unison with my brother's shout. I heard Anders screaming an explanation was what I was trying for. I disconnected with Fenris and with the more human elements of Anders until all that existed in my mind was Justice's voice and that of the idols.

Meredith _jangled_, as metal and lyrium poured out of her pores. She fought to rein control of her sword, of her body, waving her arms as though to hoard the pieces of lyrium back to her body. Yes, here was what she could never do. She was a fraud, not a true sorceress and here was my advantage. She hung onto the hilt like it was her last shred of sanity and dignity as the glittering powders left her sword and armour and flew at me, the idol flying to my skin, absorbed.

_Use me! Don't destroy me!_

I could feel the tendrils of power creeping into my mind, trying to take over, force me against my action. I fought against it, a wave of magic pulsing from me to throw her against a tree, her body slumping forward, instantly knocked out.

The idol was now silent but my mind was poisoned. All that turned in my mind were thoughts of violence, like the idol's thoughts were my own. I was suddenly torn. I had meant to take the lyrium from Meredith, thinking that I couldn't defeat her but now, she was just a woman.

My own thoughts were insidious.

_Yes! Here is revenge! Take it! Take it!_

I stepped towards the prone form. I could keep her alive forever and burn her the way she had Carver. My foot nudged Meredith's ribs. She was knocked out, for the moment.

_But you could bring her back… You could heal her… wake her, hurt her… Everything you want, anything you want… it is yours! Yours!_

It was an endless source of mana and I felt it welling inside me, the talons of cruelty sinking deep beneath my skin. I could be evil incarnate, tainted and wicked but I would have revenge. The word was like a drug in my head. Revenge. Revenge. Revenge. I nearly laughed with the power I felt drunk upon it. I raised her body into the air where it hung like a limp doll.

Justice tried to push into my mind, to control my mind, to break me but I was too powerful. Evil was my tool now, and I forced him away without even trying.

Then a wave came over me, like ice water.

I recognized it – Alistair's Cleansing Wave.

It jolted me enough for me to wake up from my trance, if only due to a snapped connection between me and my mana. It was only for a second but it was enough. His elbow knocked into me and he grabbed my face between his hands as he shouted at me, "Enough, Hales!"

"No!" I garbled, "She hurt Carver. She's got to-"

Carver.

"No more, Hales." Alistair shook me, trying to shock me back to sense and reason, "She's down already. Leave it." I heard Sebastian and Fenris stand close behind him, watching the two of us carefully.

Carver.

My mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, aftermaths of violent emotion and little made sense. I muttered, "Carver."

Alistair told me, "Anders senses something strange within him. He thinks maybe the lyrium is keeping him alive enough. With the idol's influence, his magic wasn't working properly."

Carver.

I pushed him away and ran towards Carver. He was the one thing that registered in my mind and though darkness beckoned, I had to know if he was still alive. The questions echoed in my mind as I closed in upon his body. Could it be that the idol had lied? Could it be that the idol influenced us so much that I couldn't recognize life even when it stood before me?

Anders was kneeling by Carver, his voice worried as his eyes looked over me, "There's still a stream of lyrium in him, and it's just keeping his heart beating. Just. I've never encountered anything like this before."

I knew he was right. Now that all seemed calmer, I could sense the last figments of lyrium lingering in Carver's burned body. I knelt beside Anders, I had to be careful and said matter-of-factly, "I cannot join with you but I can with Justice."

"Why?" asked Fenris.

"I will corrupt him, I took the idol into my body. I am not an abomination but dark magic rules my blood. I need healing magic to keep Carver alive, a healing influence to wash my magic before it enters Carver," I answered.

Justice took over Anders body, voice grave, "I will help you and work through you to save him but only if you surrender your power and life to me. I will suffer no dark magic of yours, witch."

I was tempted to teach the spirit a lesson, to blast him back to wherever he would go but Carver's life was at stake. When Alistair shouted a denial, I overruled him, "Fine."

A dome of violet covered us and through the wall of magic, Alistair pounded his fists angrily. I murmured a goodbye, "I love you, _darling_."

Justice roughly took my hand, and I allowed him into my mind, suppressing my need to protect myself. Pain tore at my mind, nerves screamed as Justice burned me with his own spirits magic. He was burning my magic away, slowly turning me Tranquil. He ordered, "Use your connection to heal him."

Mana and lyrium snapped easily together, Carver's heart responding. I could feel it beating inside my own heart or perhaps, my heart was forcing his to move. I heard a sharp intake of breath into his body and felt, rather than saw, Justice pouring healing potions between Carver's lips. Darkness threatened, pain overwhelmed and I slowly felt emotion leave my body.

Hatred left and anger swiftly followed. Sadness burned away and contentment slivered from my soul. Happiness seared my mind for a moment, blinding me before it slipped from my mind and joy gave chase.

Then love remained and I managed a soft smile, leaned down to take Carver's mouth to finish healing the most damaged areas, healing spells mumbled against his lips, blue wisps swallowed me and speared into Carver, making his eyes snap open wildly. He was still wounded but Anders would be able to take care of the rest.

Justice ordered, "You've done what you need to. Surrender."

I watched Carver until even love seemed to leave my heart and I was completely empty. Agony swam into my entire being, like cleansing fire taking each fibre of my being apart. I closed my eyes and hoped Justice would be merciful enough to simply end me.

_Carver_

My eyes snapped open and I watched as Hales' eyes fogged over before she fell beside me, seemingly asleep. Instantly worried, I turned towards her and yowled out. My world burned. Around me, violet wisps dimmed and Anders blinked above me, confused. Alistair swam into view, eyes wet, voice raw, "What did you do to her, you bastard? What did you do?" He shoved Anders downwards and croakily I asked, "What's wrong with Hales? What happened?"

Alistair did not answer me, taking Hales' limp body into his arms, her head falling backwards as he buried his head into her neck. I felt my breath stop entirely. Was she...? No. No. It couldn't be.

My eyes found Anders and I begged, "Tell me she's alive."

I saw Sebastian and Fenris come closer, Fenris helped support Anders, who looked both haggard and exhausted whilst Sebastian kneeled helplessly beside Alistair.

Anders nodded, "She's alive. Just tired and sleeping. She was healing you before."

Alistair yelled, tears streaming, "You lying bastard! You killed her! I heard Justice. That spirit of yours made her agree to surrender her life-"

"Don't be an idiot," snapped Anders testily, "and for the sake of the Maker, remember who you are talking to. Do you really think the runaway mage, who has been fighting for the rights of mages, would suddenly turn around and kill my best friend? Don't be absurd. She's just temporarily 'Tranquil'."

Alistair looked up, his face white with both anger and horror. I roared, "What?" partially sitting up before falling back, roaring out again. This time, due to the rip of organs inside me.

Anders snapped again, "Lie down or you'll undo the good work Hales did."

I swore at him, "Fuck you. What did you do to her?"

"She took the idol into her body, what was I supposed to do? Sit tight whilst dark magic corrupted her?" He busied himself with healing potion, pouring it into my mouth without pause, "Justice and I planned to trick her with a deal, that he'd help her heal you in return for her life because Justice hates dark magic. She was stupid enough to fall for it, desperate enough not to recognize the sleep spell I cast upon her despite the fact she's had it a number of times. It was particularly powerful, sure, but still just a sleep spell. As she fell asleep, she was too tired for emotion and she thought she was becoming Tranquil."

Alistair cradled Hales in his hands, focusing upon her and as I watched, sure enough, Hales was very much breathing. I wasn't entirely sure how we missed that.

I frowned, "So... she's fine."

Fenris snarled at me, "Haven't you been listening? Of course, she's not fine! She took an idol into her body."

Anders sighed exasperated, "Which despite what happened is very much fixable but we'll have to act fast. And with you lying here, that's going to be difficult."

Sebastian said quickly, "Whatever you need, I can go back to the main city to find. I will take Meredith and give her back to the Templars to deal with."

He instructed, "Get two pairs of those mana draining handcuffs and do it quickly."

I repeated, "So... she's fine?"

Anders nodded. I watched Sebastian heft Meredith, knocked out and limpet, upon a horse and I felt so confused that a high-pitched whickering in the distance was the only notice I got before I realized Sebastian was gone. Gingery potion was continually poured down my throat as I tried to ask, "What happened?" and instead choked.

"You were taken," answered Alistair simply, distractedly stroking Hales' hair out of her face.

I spat, "I know that! I meant, to her! You absolute dick!" before hissing out as Anders poked a particularly tender wound.

Alistair spared me a glance but took no offence. Fenris answered, "After you were taken, we communicated with Hales. She came to Kirkwall and we attempted to follow Meredith's trail. Then we found that the trail ended and she used the idol to find you and Meredith. We fought and she absorbed the idol into herself."

"Stop. Just stop," I said, "What the hell are you talking about? What idol? Have I been gone two weeks?"

Anders managed a tired snort, "He's shortening the story by quite a bit."

I turned my head to Alistair, "This is what we need Hales for. To do the explaining because apparently, men just can't handle storytelling."

He said distractedly, "No, you've been gone only a half day. Hales was able to travel to Kirkwall by a magical portal, created from sorcery. When you were taken, we managed to break the idol upon Meredith's sword. We followed the marks created by scouts to look for you but as Fenris said, the trail stopped." He swallowed, eyes full of regret, "We knew that in order to find you, we would need to use piece of idol we broke off and Hales –"

I interrupted, "You did not. That thing was _evil_ and you let-"

"There was no choice!" Alistair shouted, "I didn't like it anymore than you do now. I was on the verge of leaving you here but it would never have been an option. She would just take the idol and find you herself. You know that!" He spat, "I told her she could either remain connected with Fenris and Anders whilst using the idol or we were going home. She chose to stay connected."

I groaned, "Probably not the wisest choice but I can't exactly complain."

"Sebastian and I saw the change immediately. Her eyes turned reddish in colour, Fenris was glowing plum instead of blue and all of them were a little violent. We followed Hales through the idol to find you," Alistair gestured to me, "We found you. Manacled to a tree, bloody and broken. You were dead or you seemed dead or... I don't even know."

Anders took over, "You were mostly dead but the lyrium inside you was still straining and just keeping your heart pumping. Somehow, I couldn't sense it with the idol in my head and Fenris was thoroughly desensitized to death thanks to the damned idol and –"

"Huh?" I asked.

"Let's just say Fenris wasn't being nice about it when he told Hales you were dead. She screamed like-" Alistair broke off, sighing.

"Then what?" I prompted.

"It was like she was someone else, only focused upon Meredith. We fought her but Meredith seemed to have taken the idol into herself like Hales did-"

"Not like Hales did," said Anders, "Meredith committed blood magic to become one with the idol. I can't actually believe it. Meredith. Blood magic. But anyway, Hales merely absorbed it. Technically, Hales would destroy it. Sort of. I was going through her thoughts when she was healing you. Apparently, it occurred to her that Meredith was just as powerful as she was and in her self-destructive opinion, we would all die, because we were already taking damage, unless she absorbed all the lyrium out of Meredith's body. So, the idol is now a bunch of lyrium sitting inside her body."

Alistair muttered darkly, glaring at Hales' prone form, "You forget the bit where she blocked us out of the fight. She _always_ does this."

I managed a self-deprecating snort, "She wouldn't be a Hawke if she didn't try to fix every single problem single-handedly." It was just like her to do something like that. She'd sacrifice herself for the world if she thought it'd gain world peace and she wasn't about to ask for anyone's help, thank you very much. Still, I mused, she could have taken the idol to find me single-handedly and she chose to do so with Anders and Fenris. That was about as much concession as could be expected.

"She's a Theirin, not a Hawke," he reminded me.

"Like that's any better," I argued, "you can't have forgotten the Blight already, have you?"

"I didn't take on the archdemon single-handedly. Honestly, I'd think you were a little more upset about the situation after what we talked about that night she ran off to Anora's."

I nearly laughed, humourless, as flesh and wounds stitched together, "Oh, I am. She'll be getting quite the earful from all of us, I wager."

Fenris snarled, "Oh yes, she will."

"But," I interrupted, "she could have gone alone and not accepted help from Fenris and Anders. Especially after that ultimatum you gave her. She's trying and we can't expect her to suddenly change. She wouldn't be Hales, if she did that."

Alistair tilted his head to concede the point and he added, "And I guess if we were in her shoes, we might not have done so differently. If I found Elissa like-" he cleared his throat, "and Ferelden was at risk what with me being around. It... I guess, it makes sense. Just wish she thought of an alternative."

Anders said quietly, "There probably wasn't one. There's only one way to take lyrium, to absorb it. I don't like it either but she got the job done. We probably wouldn't have survived without her, let's face it. Doesn't mean I won't yell at her anyway though."

A snort sounded from Alistair, "What is it with the women we know running off to be heroes?"

I choked on more potions and coughed out, "Women are stupid like that. That's why men are around."

Fenris sneered, "Were Valentha awake, she would beat you down for that comment."

Silence fell between us as Anders poured balms on my skin that made it sting. He commented, "You're going to be in pain for days but most of the damage is healed."

Sebastian arrived soon after, hands wrapped around two sets of manacles that I recognized being a Templar. He eyed me over, "You look better."

I joked, "Sorry for disappointing you."

He glared, "Do not joke, Carver. Hales was willing to sacrifice her life for you."

"Oh quit sniping," Anders instructed, "Just clamp them around her wrist. Justice believes that it will drain the lyrium out of her body and she will be cleaned of the tainted idol."

The logic certainly made sense. The mana would be drained from her body, allowing the lyrium to compensate and convert into mana, which would be drained until any mana created from the idol would be within the cuffs. With some hesitation, Sebastian wrapped the cuffs around her wrists and pressed the locks shut. The results were immediate. As she squirmed against the draining in her sleep, the cuffs were slowly becoming encrusted with golden powder, glittering all along the metal. Veins of red twisted on top of the gold, tying itself all along cuffs like pumping arteries until with a loud snap, the cuffs broke, a busted rip along the metal locks.

A strange hummed echoed in my ears, like a song being strummed just a little way off.

"Can you hear that?"

Anders nodded, "It is the idol. If we didn't hurry, the idol would eventually fight for dominance inside her body. She thinks it's broken but the idol is just dormant in her body. Eventually, it would poison her and turn her into an idol. When she healed you, she needed Justice to counter her corrupting magic."

Unimpressed, I rounded on him, "You said she was fine."

"She is now. Sebastian, taking this pair off and put the second pair on. Make sure you don't touch it or you'll end up like Carver."

I winced at the words but focused upon Hales instead. I could deal with everything else later.

Sebastian covered his hand with a piece of cloth and gingerly pried the draining cuffs from her wrists, before snapping on the second pair. It whirred to life, purple wisps covering it and then a small layer of golden powder. It was very lightly sprinkled this time, fine and sparse.

Tense minutes passed but the golden colour did not grow, nor did red veins twist around it. Anders sighed out in relief, "You can take it off. She's fine."

Alistair politely waved Sebastian away so he could undo the locks himself. He asked straight out, "You sure she is completely fine?"

"Justice said she is fine. I know you're worried but if you can't trust a Fade spirit's judgement, you can't trust anyone," said Anders gently.

I rolled on my side, biting the inside of my cheek to fight the burn of wounds to really look at my lover. With the cuffs gone, her face was still pinched in discomfort. I remembered the shakes she used to go through and reached into her with my lyrium, only to find the connection snapped shut.

I frowned and Anders snapped, "Uh. Hello. Mana gone?"

Of course, why didn't I think of that? I sniped, "Can you stop being a bitch for two seconds? Maker."

With Hales still not yet awake, with all of us not yet assured that she was completely fine, all of us were nervous, fidgeting, sniping, shouting and insulting one another. Sebastian was the only out of us who seemed outwardly calm but he too, shot worried glances at everyone.

Anders apologized, "Sorry. I've got enough mana to cast rejuvenating spells on her. That should hasten her waking."

When enough mana was built out in Hales naturally, her mana searched for me. I touched her hand and I was flooded with everything that was Hales. The signature of her mana flowed over me and I groaned out loud, relieved. There was no taint, only the clean and sweet taste of magic and sorcery at the back of my tongue. She hummed gently, contentment clear in her mind and emotions. She was fine. Fine. Not Tranquil. Not dead. Fine.

I closed my eyes, relieved out of my mind, all the fear fleeing my body. All the tension and stress leaving me instantaneously.

It was quickly replaced with anger, the kind of fury that was fuelled by 'what if's, fear, worry and love. Maker, would she always throw herself into danger like that? I wanted to shake her, scream at her, shout and yell, tell her to stop being a fucking martyr every time shit happened.

She murmured, eyelashes fluttering before yawning widely. Easily, she sat up, eyes confused and disoriented. She looked over us, completely unaware how pissed we all were. Her eyes ran over my raw skin, met my eyes and commented easily, "We're all alright."

It was like a wave had passed through us. From relief to rich irritation. The emotion was certainly shared by Anders and Fenris. Both their expressions darkened as relief left. Even Alistair looked slightly less than pleased. Only Sebastian seemed truly happy that Hales would be fine, completely forgetting what she'd done to get to this point.

Hales was going to get it now.

* * *

><p>AN: As promised! This fic is probably coming to an end real soon. I foresee another three chapters. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and read and review!

Love, Ann


	23. Secret Healing

**Chapter 23 – Secret Healing**

_Hales_

Carver was very much alive. We were all alive. I marvelled at that fact, a sense of wonderment filling me. We had _actually_ survived Meredith. I commented, "We're all alright. We actually made it."

All at once, the mood around me shifted and frowning, I looked at all their faces. Alistair didn't look too happy, Anders seemed irritated, Fenris looked like he was on the verge of tearing holes into trees and Carver slumped backwards with an angry hiss.

Sebastian was the only one smiling and I shrugged, "What?"

He tried to stifle his smile and answered, wording his sentence carefully, "For a while there, we weren't so sure that _you_ would make it through."

My thoughts were suddenly very clear. Carver _was_ dead. Or he had been very close to dying. I remembered the image, burnt and broken, his features a mess from all the blood. Yet now he sat, for all intents and purposes, well. I wanted to touch him, to make sure he was alright but the rest of my memories came back in a rush. The idol, my absorbing it, Meredith being knocked out, Justice, being made Tranquil? I could still hear a little of the tempting humming, a seductively sweet calling not too far away but I brushed it aside.

"Oh," I said quietly.

Alistair commented, a little snidely, "Yes, Hales. 'Oh' would be correct."

I looked back to Carver. His skin was like an angry sunburn, wires of red welts covering him, weeping blood slowly. But it was almost healthy flesh, stitched up without needle and thread, easily healable with rest.

Wait. Being made Tranquil? I sure didn't feel Tranquil. I felt relief, yes, that was an emotion. I turned towards Anders, who had a most dark expression painted on and asked timidly, "So... er... what happened to Tranquility?"

His tone was catty, "Yes, Hales. I was going to turn my best friend into a Tranquil. Me. The runaway mage. The one who helps out at the mage underground." I winced and he growled out, "I cannot believe you were even dumb enough to fall for it. Like Justice had the power to turn you Tranquil. Like Justice was about to do something that he finds _unjust_!"

I tried to placate, "But I had just absorbed –"

"Oh don't you even get us started on that, Hales," said Alistair, his tone acerbic.

"Aww, come on!" I said before Anders interrupted, continuing on his tirade, "I cannot believe you fell for it. You thought your emotions were going and _then_, what does yours truly think of?"

He stayed quiet and I blinked, "I don't know."

"Think!"

I rolled my eyes, impertinent but did as he requested. I felt love retreat until I was empty and then... "I _hoped_ Justice would-"

"Yes! Exactly! Hope! You think some Maker forsaken Tranquil would be able to hope! It was just a stupid sleep spell. One that, I might add, you had been under before!" Anders shouted, his voice pitched to echo in the trees.

My shoulders slumped forward, "It was powerful! I wasn't going to be able to work my brain being so tired! Who the hell thinks when they are tired anyway?" I argued.

Anders rolled his eyes and shook his head at me. Fenris took over, "And the idol?"

I felt crowded in by angry men. Carver had yet to speak but his face said _pissed off_. I looked towards Sebastian's pleasant face from beneath my eyelashes, "You're not angry at me, are you?"

He paused as four male heads glared at him and he ventured carefully, "I'm not pleased that you put yourself in harm's way but I do not share their irate emotions."

"Right," I said calmly, "Looks like I'll be riding back with you later."

Sebastian stifled another smile, "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem likely that you'll be getting off so lightly."

I turned back to the four of them, "You have got to be kidding me."

"I do not, as you suggest, kid," said Fenris in a deep snarling voice.

Alistair relented, a little, "You shouldn't have taken risks like that. The rest of us were fighting her. Eventually –"

"Eventually, nothing!" I argued, "Come on, I get that you're all upset but it isn't like there was another option. Carver was dead and -"

"Was not," came his voice, acrimony buried deep.

I swung to look at him and pursed my lip, "You were burned. Bleeding all over the place, manacled up to the tree. Your face was barely recognizable to me and I bloody well _grew up_ with you. You want to sit around and pretend I fell in love with that idol and tried to absorb it into my body to become all powerful, then you go do that. But I didn't. I didn't have a choice!"

Alistair frowned, "Wasn't there?"

"What is it with you men?" I asked, "You knew the only one who could defeat her was me."

"I thought that if I had any hope of defeating her, I would need you," he replied quickly.

I paused and asked, "Where is she anyway?"

"In Kirkwall," Sebastian answered, "I had to get mage cuffs for you."

I blinked, "What?"

Anders told me, "You absorbed the lyrium idol into your body. We had to get it out." He pointed to a pair of cuffs, one sprinkled with golden lyrium, the other caked with it. "Eventually, the idol would have poisoned you and taking you as its trophy, leaving your entire body an idol. Did you think about that?"

I lost my patience, "This is real rich coming from you lot. Like you would have had time to think about anything aside from getting rid of Meredith were you in my shoes."

Alistair's voice was reprimanding, "Anders said that you were tainted. That's not something you want. Evidently, you weren't an abomination but even you admitted you were using dark magic."

I shrugged, "Justice said he could control me."

"Apparently, that didn't work," countered Carver, "because you evidently brushed him off and told the whole world you could corrupt me with your magic. That'd make you half an abomination, wouldn't it?"

"And what was I supposed to do? Sit around looking beautiful whilst she cut you lot down to pieces? One, she would have killed all of you. No doubt about it and I would have been left to deal with her. Successfully or unsuccessfully, we can't tell but the outcome would have been worse because none of you would be alive to actually deal with me," I said angrily, taking a deep breath before charging on, "All of you would be dead, Elissa would lose a husband, Ferelden loses its King, Starkhaven loses its Prince, the rest of you don't really matter on a political level. That versus all of you being alive and me potentially losing myself and dying in the process."

I waved my hand around a little, "Are you all really that short-sighted? Seriously? I mean, I get it. I appreciate that you're worried that I throw myself into things I can't always get out of and ultimately, you just want me safe but it isn't just about me."

Alistair scratched the back of his neck before arguing, "Yeah well. Ferelden would lose a Princess and a future Queen, too."

"I know," I said, "but there would be time for you to work something out. Adopt a child and hush it up so no one knows. The point is, Meredith was basically a sorceress in her own right. There wasn't another way out of it. Maybe if you were a sorcerer and I was just your average sword-wielding person, I could be saved but tell me that it wouldn't be due to all of you doing the exact same thing as me. Go one, just try."

Everyone fell silent. They weren't happy but my logic was foolproof. Knowing each of their personalities, all of them would happily sacrifice themselves to save the rest of the group. Alistair eventually sighed, "Alright. Alright. The point is we were really worried about you."

"I know and I'm sorry." I shared his sigh, "There just didn't seem like another way out. I guess I would be just as angry as you guys if you had done the same but..."

Fenris growled, "I will tend to the horses. We should get back to Kirkwall."

I smiled, in Fenris-language, that was as close to 'you are forgiven' as it got.

"Not yet," said Alistair. He turned to me and said gently, "There's still something you need to do," and strode to where the lyrium-covered cuffs lay on the floor, kicking it to my feet.

Instantly, I heard the humming again, felt it activating as it touched me. A swirl of energy covered me, dark and seductive. I stared at my knees and picked it up, holding it in my hands. I was instantly captivated though I tried to keep it at bay. I had enough control to lift my head and ask Alistair, "Yes?"

"Get rid of it," he said like it was as trivial as throwing out garbage.

_Don't listen to him. He's just jealous of your power. He wants you weak so he'll always rule over you. He's just trying to hold you down. _

When I gave him a helpless look, he came to me with a confident smile, "Go on. It'll be fine."

_Don't listen. Just use me to cut them all down. Then we can do it whatever we like. _

I turned and looked at Carver, who watched me calmly, eyes a little tired but still quite bright blue. I smiled a little and began muttering as loud as I could, trying to chant the words of Arcanum for the fire spell.

_DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO IT!_

My fingers glowed with orange flames, purifying and cleansing me of the last vestiges of control the idol had upon me. The lyrium melted, shattered, broke apart and dusted into small particles before it faded completely, only a small piece of bright, crusty ash remaining in my hand.

It was like the epitome of relief coursing through me. When I looked at Alistair, his eyes glittered with pride and Sebastian chuckled with genuine delight. Freedom. Freedom from the control that I hadn't realized I needed.

I turned back towards Fenris, who rolled his eyes and went to tend to the horses, then towards Anders, who began healing Carver's legs.

"Can I do anything?" I asked.

Anders' voice still held a slight bite of aggravation, "Well, I suppose you're done being a nutcase so you can heal whatever you can reach."

My hands fluttered out to Carver and then I pulled back again, scared of hurting him. His flesh looked so raw that I was certain my magic would sting him. Carver watched me with frustrated eyes, hissing out in a slightly offended tone when Anders prodded his leg, "I'm fine. Thanks for asking, you little freak."

It seemed that where everyone else had forgiven me, Carver was still holding onto a grudge. I shook my head and smiled at him. He just needed time, it didn't help that he was in so much pain. My hands reached for his neck, healing burned skin. I tried to reach to his lyrium but he kept closing me down. Typical, I thought.

Each of us rode back on separate horses aside from Alistair and me. Though the others trotted at a slower pace behind us, Sebastian raced his horse against ours, the two horses galloping along the dirt paths, the three of us exhausted but still relieved and happy to be alive. Now and again, Sebastian would need to slow down as our horse was carrying double the weight but the three of us were having fun, unlike the three grumps riding way behind us.

I said to Alistair, "Carver's being an ass."

"He needs time to recover. He'll be _your _ass by the time he's fully healed, I'm sure." We shared a laugh, "You should have seen him when we were on the ship, staring at the ocean like it had done him some great wrong. I was thinking that he was a real counterpart to your nature, brooding like that."

I murmured, "He was like that as a kid, too."

We arrived at Kirkwall's gates where most of the men were waiting, either dozing against walls or yawning widely in idleness. Cullen and Aveline greeted us. I rushed to her, hugging her tightly and she smiled at me, thankful that I was safe. When such pleasantries were over, Aveline stated, "Meredith has been clapped in irons, to be sent to court and trial as Kirkwall nobility and Chantry see fit. Unless, there are objections?"

Alistair answered, "Deal with her as you see fit," then he looked to me, "unless…"

I shook my head. Meredith had no more powers. She would be tried like a normal human being would. It was the only right thing to do.

There were some discussions as to whom the next Viscount would be, how the men would return home and who actually owned Kirkwall since it had technically been conquered. I had offered, "For now, I believe Kirkwall should resume the standard procedure and Knight-Captain Cullen can oversee the details whilst a new Viscount is found. Though the land should technically be divided between Starkhaven and Ferelden, I believe there would be a greater interest in creating a strong alliance between the three nations." I looked to Alistair and Sebastian, "Thoughts?"

They had nothing to add and each nodded their assent. Sebastian spoke of his upcoming wedding when all had settled down. He told me, "You must come. I think some time in Starkhaven will do you some good, think of it as a vacation from wars and politics."

I smiled, sincerely happy for one of my closest friends, "Like I'd let you marry another woman without me being there!"

We turned towards the subject of Gamlen and Charade and Aveline promised that both of them were fine. I wasn't certain that I would have time to visit them and she waved my words aside, telling me she would see to it that they knew I was well. She was needed not long after and promising to be present at Sebastian's wedding, she left to round up the guard. Alistair began moving the men towards the docks to set sail immediately for their individual homelands. By the time Carver, Fenris, and Anders made it back, almost all the men were gone. It seemed a little anti-climatic.

I watched as Anders helped a struggling Carver off his horse, his face wincing and grimacing with each step.

I asked Carver, whose flesh was somewhat healed, no more bleeding aside from the angry sunburnt look, "Are you alright?"

His tone was both embarrassed and blunt at the same time, "Everything still stings a bit and my skin feels stretched but… I'll live." He seemed vaguely apologetic but now wasn't the time for a deep and meaningful heart to heart. I wanted to touch him, hold him, say something but later, I thought. We would have time now that everything was over.

Sebastian shook hands with Alistair and said sadly, "I must go." He looked at me, "I hope the next time I see you, it will be in much better circumstances."

I embraced him with a smile and promised, "It will be."

He smiled, "Good. Now, I believe you need to show me your portal spell so I can go home without getting seasick."

I laughed, "You don't even get seasick."

"Doesn't mean I don't want to be home right now."

Nodding, I went to a nearby wall, drawing the symbols upon it and asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"My room back in Starkhaven would be wonderful."

I pushed him to the wall, placing his hand flat against the surface with my hand atop his. It was as though I was going through his mind, willing what he willed, wanting what he wanted and whilst chanting beneath my breath, the symbols opened into a pearly sheen, a doorway of sorts, before it parted to give the scene of a bedroom. Both of us strode through together.

It was already late morning in Starkhaven and the time difference struck me deeply. I surveyed his _very neat_ bedroom, not even a speck out of space and began staring out his window to see the warm meadows that beckoned. That anti-climatic feeling surged through me. The entire _war_ effort was _over_. Over! Of course, it hadn't been anti-climatic at all. Carver had almost died in the process but I knew, deep in my heart, that even if Carver had died, the war effort was too easily won. Not on a personal level, never on a personal level but on a national level, it was easily won.

"It is such a nice view here," I commented, "beautiful, peaceful."

"Ferelden is not so different, is it?" he asked, taking off the heavy pieces of armour. They fell to the wooden floors with dull clanks and he smiled at me, a hand on the back of his neck.

"No, of course not. I just..." I sighed and said sincerely, "I just miss you, that's all."

Sebastian lifted my chin so our eyes met, "We will see each other often enough to assuage that and we will talk, as we have always done."

"I know," I said quietly.

"Don't be too rough on Carver, when the two of you finally talk about what happened. I doubt he is as angry as he seems and I suspect he's just afraid for you," Sebastian advised.

"Don't worry about that. I know him better than anyone," I replied.

"Good. Now, you should go. They are waiting for you."

I drew patterns upon his wall and told him, "Once I go through, don't forget to rub the patterns off."

I chanted, the words coming easily, the portal appearing faster. I turned to say goodbye and he pressed a soft, courtly kiss upon my mouth and smiled, "I'll see you soon," before pushing me through the portal.

Kirkwall's dawn greeted me and I shook my head, completely disoriented.

Alistair asked, "Everything alright?"

I nodded, "Yes. His bedroom is… really neat," I commented, "Too neat. Like nothing out of place neat. It's uncanny."

Carver's voice was rough, still tainted by the pain he was feeling, larynx still damaged I suspected, "Does he often kiss you whilst you're in his bedroom?" he asked, his tone upset.

I frowned, "You can see through the portal?"

Alistair nodded, "Just like before. We could see his bedroom."

I shrugged, "I wasn't sure if only I could see it or if you could too."

"You going to answer the question?" asked Carver brusquely.

I tilted my head, voice soft, "Carver... he was just being friendly."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it!"

Alistair interrupted, "Let's not have another argument before we make it home, yes?" He gave me the lifted eyebrows and suggested, "Portal back to Ferelden?"

I shook my head, "One, you need to give me a few minutes because I don't have enough mana. Two, I can't leave these symbols lying around in the middle of Kirkwall, Alistair."

He gestured to a few men, ordering them, "I am leaving through magic. Wipe these symbols off the wall after we disappear." Then he faced me and repeated, "Portal back to Ferelden?"

Anders' mana reached into my own stores and I felt Justice, calm at the back of my mind. Though there were no words, I felt peace and contentment, not anger. I was forgiven. As I began chanting, I felt Alistair place his chin on top of my head, the spell forming in front of him. Within moments, the portal awaited.

Anders and Fenris supported Carver as the three of them made their way through the portal. As they passed, Carver's eyes locked with mine for a brief moment but they were clouded over from pain. Still, I could tell he was irate, both from my actions and Sebastian's purely platonic kiss. Trust Carver to be jealous over something like that.

Alistair offered me his arm and I took it with a smile, leaning my head on his shoulder as we made our way back home.

Elissa launched herself at her husband and I grinned as she embraced him, sharing deep kisses before she demanded, "I want to know everything!"

Carver was being carried on a stretcher. He was still groaning out in pain, hissing at any slight contact. I furrowed my brows but Anders offered, "He just needs time. He's fine, I promise."

Alistair told his wife, "Let's get Carver settled before we talk."

We all made way towards the royal bedchambers and into my room. When men made to take Carver from the stretcher, I intervened, using my magic to float Carver onto my bed. His eyes were wincing as he moved against the sheets but he managed a slight, "Thank you."

I went to the bedside table and offered him a health poultice that I always kept for emergencies. He opened his mouth and I pressed the rim of the vial against his lips, trickling the gingery substance into his mouth, giving him pause to swallow. When the vial was empty, I rose quickly but he made a soft noise of protest, lifting his hand in the air. I shook my head at him, placing the tips of my fingers at his lips, "You need to rest… We can talk when you're better."

It wasn't that I didn't want the awkwardness to ebb away. I just knew that Carver needed to sleep and to consolidate his thoughts. I left the bedroom, closing the door behind me to join the group so we could talk in the living area, relief really starting to make itself known as it coursed right through me.

We were safe now.

All that remained was to keep ourselves that way.

_Carver_

I was exhausted, weak from the relief that we were home and very much safe but I was, I hated to say it, scared. Watching her walk out of the bedroom door was harder than it was supposed to be. I didn't want to be alone. I could still feel how my shoulders ached and when I closed my eyes, I could almost smell burning flesh, feel my skin peeling off. My face was still pained, I could still feel holes and stitching muscles in my body.

The sleep I found was fitful. I was aware in two worlds. I could hear the soft mutters of conversation coming from Hales' living room and yet, I could see the realm of dreams in my head. I was with Meredith, her eyes deformed and her lyrium pounding at my head. I forced myself against it, struggled to wake up; I wanted to feel the protection of magic not the hatred that Meredith had forced upon me. Everything about her was so twisted, warped even.

I woke with a choked down yell, cold sweat beading all over my skin causing that stinging sensation to run down my body. I felt better than before, of course, and I was alive but the sensation wasn't leaving me fast enough. I was exhausted, I wanted company and I wanted my strength back. I could barely stand on my own for my muscles had been partially damaged and though everything looked fine on the outside, the insides were still coming together. Anders could probably give a lot of medical terms that I just didn't understand but the long and the short of it was that I would be in bed for a few days.

As for Hales, and didn't everything always come down to her in the end? I wasn't entirely sure what to think. I had behaved like an ass in general. There was nothing going on between her and Sebastian and mostly, it was just the pain talking. That, and the fear.

I wondered when it would be over. When could Hales finally be safe? Would she always be in situations where her life could be easily forfeited? Could we finally be safe and settle down? Could I ever know what lay ahead in the future? Would Hales always be silly enough to do reckless things to save the world and could I really judge her for it? What wouldn't I be willing to do if I had found her dead against a tree?

And suddenly, I didn't want to think at all. I didn't want to care about all that anymore. She had dealt with her demons. She got rid of the idol. Wasn't that enough? Overall, I just wanted to have her beside me and forget the rest because she was the woman I loved and that was enough. I would cherish every day I had with her and try and protect her as best as I could.

I fell asleep with more vivid dreams overwhelming my mind's eye. Bright swirls of blue, angry pools of red, dazzling streams of violet, Hales' chocolate brown eyes, Meredith's icy blue, all the colours eventually mixed into muddy colours and I felt myself thrash in sleep, only causing myself more aching in my muscles.

Then it eased away…I felt warmth, like a smooth protection covering me. Caught in a half-sleep, I recognized her powers, Hales' powers, her own seductive signature sliding sensually over my skin. Though fatigued, I still felt strength come to me in my dreams and safety calling my name. The nightmares began to fade as my body strengthened and fortified itself, my muscles building once more.

I woke again, with a blurry image of her retreating away and I called out to her, begging incoherently for her to stay. I was so afraid she'd leave me. Maker, don't leave me. Please don't leave me to the dreams, I thought incoherently, please stay and love me. It took moments to realize I had even spoken out aloud.

I heard the swishing of materials fall upon the floor, felt the bed dip beside me and revelled in the way her hand sat on my chest as her body snuggled into my side. The slight sting was almost comforting with her there. Our minds came together, streams of purple and blue came through my blurry vision, love, fear and worry overwhelming me. She was beside me, right there, and the shelter of her love, feeling it, knowing it chased my fears away. In her touch was salvation and I felt whole once more. I wanted to take away her worry, wanted to tell her that I loved her and that nothing else mattered but sleep came too easily, deeply and just as I slipped away, all that reached my mind was – I really wanted to make her a Hawke again.

It was evening when I woke again and feeling refreshed, I found myself completely able to stand and walk, bodily functions working perfectly again. I had servants draw me a bath and found out that I had been asleep for at least a good three days. Feeling disoriented, I had inquired about Hales' whereabouts but I was told that, "The Princess is indisposed, entertaining a few nobles about potential farming projects."

As I bathed, I began thinking, devising. The thought was echoing over and over in my mind. I really wanted to make her a Hawke again. I wasn't up for being King but I could still be her husband, couldn't I? I rose from the water and left for Alistair and Elissa's room, a corridor and flight of stairs away.

He was in his own living room, documents spread out around him. I interrupted and announced, "I want to marry your sister."

Alistair looked up, "Er… nice to see you up and about?"

I glared at him and he relented, "What were you expecting? You've been resting for days, Anders and Hales working on healing you every few hours and the first thing you say is 'I want to marry your sister?' Jeez."

"Well, I do," I said to him, "But honestly, I'm not too interested in being King. I just want to be there for her."

He shrugged, "That's fine as long as she's fine with it. You'll need to help her with whatever duties she's got though. Running this country isn't easy."

I sat down beside him, leaning backwards as Elissa interrupted from the bedroom, clad only in a long robe, "A wedding!" She giggled girlishly, unlike her normal Queenly carriage, "So, have you got her a ring yet?"

"No," I said, "I wanted to make sure that the arrangement was possible. I don't mind having to learn things, understand rules or whatever but ultimately, I want to be her _husband_, not Ferelden's King."

Elissa cautioned, "Are you sure this is what you want, though? Whether husband or King, you will have to take part in helping her run this country."

"I know." I said semi-defensively, "I just don't want to necessarily be the one who is publicly making all the decisions. I'd rather just focus on helping her."

It was quite the turnaround really. A long time ago, being King would have been right up my alley. I would have spoiled myself, abused my powers and done anything I wanted. Now, it was different. I understood that power wasn't necessarily a good thing and how good of a ruler would I turn out to be anyway? Simplicity has its benefits. Supporting Hales would be enough.

Alistair then asked, "Right. Well, I'm sure that will turn out fine. Good luck with it."

Elissa tutted, "Absolutely no sense. Honestly, I wonder how you managed to tie me down sometimes."

"What?" he cried out defensively, "He has my blessings, doesn't he? Wouldn't have let the man live with my sister if I didn't think it was a good idea!"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "I'm talking about the _ring_."

"I already know what I want. I'll go talk with the jewellers later. " I told her with conviction, "I want a –"

Elissa interrupted, "Sapphire, I know, like the amulet you gave her. What about the setting though? What about the colour, how dark it is? I mean, there are a lot of things to rings. You don't just say sapphire and expect the perfect ring to come out!"

I stared in shock. How did she know about my choice of stone? Was I really so transparent? She busied and bustled, calling for the royal jeweller whilst Alistair looked at me with sympathetic eyes whilst muttering, "Maker save you, Carver."

The jeweller wasn't much better and he was a _man._ He asked me questions like, "What cut would you like?" and "What silvers did you want?" and "What colours for the stone?" Very little of what was said actually made sense to me. I began asking questions like, "What kind of cuts are there?" and "What kind of silvers are there?"

The man gave an exasperated sigh, evidently very used to such questions before asking me, "Tell me what you want in as much detail as you can." He gestured to large trays, rows of glittering jewels shining and winking at me, "Or maybe pick something here and we'll do some alteration."

I felt slightly intimidated but went for, "I want a sapphire, light enough to actually see blue. I want the ring to be silver, like steel coloured. No gold. I want the stone to be maybe… oval? Yes, oval," I said decisively, "and large, very large." I hummed in thought, "And something around the sapphire, something that catches the eye."

Elissa rolled her eyes, "What is it with you men?"

"What?" I yelled in defence, "I want the whole world to know she's my wife! There's nothing wrong with that."

She looked affronted and shook her head whilst Alistair snorted out in laughter. He patted me on the shoulder, "I agree, Carver but these women…" he trailed off teasingly, "They always want to appear unattached."

"You all make me sick," was Elissa's only response.

We settled for something that I thought was rather elegant although Elissa still felt that I was being far too possessive. An oval sapphire ring set in a rare silverite, a small cluster of diamonds flashing brightly, surrounding the main oval stone. It almost looked like a crown really.

Over dinner in their room, Elissa asked, "Have the two of you actually talked things out yet? Alistair told you were you quite angry with her."

"Of course, they have," answered Alistair as I shook my head. The two of them rounded upon me, shock written in their faces.

I shrugged, "There isn't really much to talk about. I don't like what she does but this is who she is. This is who _we _are. All of us. We put our lives in danger for everyone else and we can't suddenly tell her that she's not allowed to. She's compromised some and we have to as well. She isn't just the darling Princess of Ferelden, she's the Champion of Kirkwall and a bloody powerful sorceress too. I'll always worry but she's right. We wouldn't have done things any differently. So, I don't see much of a problem. Or well," I admitted, "I can't really raise it as an issue. I don't like it but it isn't something I can change completely. I think, for once, I'm alright with that."

Elissa suggested, "Maybe you should have that talk first, give her a few days and then ask."

"I can ask her after we're done talking. The moment she's got it sorted in her own head and understands I love her and I'm not angry with her, I'll ask."

"Whilst she's off-kilter?" she squawked as I pocketed the ring.

I shrugged again, gleeful that my shoulder movements no longer held too much pain, making an untasteful joke, "Best time to pounce probably and keep her tied down so she can't run off with anyone else."

Alistair tried to smother his laughter, evidently unconcerned whilst Elissa spat out, "The two of you really make me sick!"

He tried to smooth out her ruffled feathers, "It's a joke. Men do that."

"It was a really bad joke!"

He silenced her with a kiss as Hales interrupted from the door, "What was a really bad joke?" Her eyes landed on me and with an unsure smile, question forgotten, she said, "You're up. How are you feeling?"

I wasn't sure what spurred my next answer. It was mostly between wanting some privacy for the two of us or pissing Elissa off even more, "I'm… ah… pretty tired still," I said with a faked grimace as I moved my shoulder about, "and I'll probably need to get back to bed soon." It was mostly to get Hales alone. She looked beautiful. Tired and a little frustrated but beautiful. She was wearing an off shoulder dress, the lines of collarbones beckoned my teeth. It was sweet, pastel pink velvet with white folds underneath and honestly, it wasn't the kind of colour I normally associated with Hales, it seemed a little too girlish, too sweet but there she was, looking like an angel.

Her eyes grew concerned, "Oh… well, maybe we should get you back to-"

I waved her with another dramatically pained look, "No, it is alright. I can still hang on…" I rubbed at my shoulders a little, "I've still got some energy left. Are you – You here to see Alistair?"

Elissa glared at me, huffing at my obvious acting but not saying anything to ruin my innocent façade whilst Alistair hid a chuckle behind a cough. Hales looked at the three of us, one face at a time as she frowned, "Uh huh…" she said distracted, "I just wanted to let you know," she looked back to Alistair, "that the dinner went well. No, that's a lie. It was abysmal with that Lord Rigby, if you can even call him a Lord. I think the title Lecherous Rigby sounds much more applicable but the farmlands will be crawling with work for many of the peasants within days. So overall, the job is done." As Alistair struggled not to laugh, giving an amused nod, she asked Elissa bluntly, "What's going on?"

Two pairs of male eyes stared holes into her face until Elissa spat out with reluctance, "They were making rude jokes about women. That's all."

"Right…" she said dubiously.

Alistair coughed again to hide another chuckle and suggested, "You know, maybe you should take Carver up to get some rest. He's already had dinner with us and probably needs sleep. He might er… keel over and _die_ from the pain if you don't."

Hales eyed us all like we were suspicious criminals but still looked at me with worry shining in her eyes. Her voice was almost syrupy, "Does it still hurt a lot?"

I nodded, playing the injured patient, eager for her _nursing, _"Yes… it does."

"Maybe we should get you to bed then," said Hales as she came to me, ready to help support me back to our own room. I pushed her away and winced for her benefit as I stood, "No, no. I can walk."

Hales didn't push but watched me carefully as we slowly made our way to the door. As I closed the door behind me, I grinned at Alistair and Elissa, winking at them. She eyed me with mock disgust, though I knew it wasn't serious and Alistair laughed, his shoulders shaking.

I held onto the walls as I took each step, ensuring that I went slowly, keeping my act complete. Hales was silent beside me, occasionally glancing at me with awkward eyes and I started, "I am so glad everything is finally back to normal."

She nodded and I smiled, giving her genuine comfort, "You alright?"

Hales raised an eyebrow, "I should be asking you that. You were so upset with me."

I took one stair at a time, leaning heavily against the rails though it really wasn't necessary and shrugged, "If I'm being honest, I'm not upset with you. More at the situation. I don't want to see you get hurt and you tend to throw yourself into dangerous situations. Or maybe they just happen to you, I'm not sure. I can't deny that given the same situation, I wouldn't have done the same."

"Oh," was all she said.

I took a pause on the second last step, as though out of breath and told her, "I'm not happy that you could have died or resorted to something that would have killed you but it is what you do. I hope that things settle down and you won't need to fight as much. I get the feeling we'll finally have some peace and quiet but you did what you had to and I'm not going to sit around and criticize. The end."

I began the last 'stretch' towards our rooms and she replied, slightly surprised and as Elissa had suggested, 'off kilter', "That's… good. I thought you were upset because –"

I interrupted her as she opened the door to our living room and I closed it behind me, ensuring it was locked, "I know there's nothing going on between you and Sebastian. Don't like seeing him kiss you but I know it isn't like that. It was just the pain talking."

Hales smiled, a bubble of laughter sliding out from her throat, "So… we're fine?" She concluded and I nodded, thinking about the box that was in my pocket. Of course we were fine, idiot. I limped into the room and let her close the bedroom door, quickly stashing the ring into the drawers of the vanity without her seeing whilst pretending to stare out the window. She came behind me, arms sliding around my waist and murmured into my back, "You should undress and lie down so I can take a good look at you."

That was when I pounced, turning around swiftly to press her body against mine, lips capturing hers in the heated passions that had simmered after weeks without her.

_Hales_

I tensed in his arms and pulled away, "Carver! We can't-"

"Oh yes we can," he grabbed me again, kissing me with almost violent ardour, one hand cupping at my neck and the other swiftly undoing the ties at the back of my dress. I tried to protest again when he broke the kiss for air, "I should look you over and –", but he interrupted me with a smoky voice, his eyes darkening with lust, "I'm fine," he told me, pressing his hips against me to prove his point.

I pursed my lips and pointed to the bed, "You're in no position to argue. You're injured! Strip and get into bed."

He smirked as he undressed, pulling his thin cotton shirt over his head and toeing his boots off at the same time, "Oh, yes please." I began to roll my eyes until I noticed how his movements were swift, smooth and he didn't even grimace in pain. I frowned in confusion and he chuckled darkly, pushing his hips forward as he told me, "Undo my breeches for me? It hurts to bend my back when I take them off."

I was beginning to think he was playing me, wanting to entice me by being the one to 'unwrap' him. I was right in some ways, I suppose. With impersonal hands, I undid the laces, pulling them down his legs as though I was doing no more than undressing a toy dolly and pressed him onto the bed so he was facing up. He said with a mischievous grin, "You know healer, there is this ache…" he wrapped his fingers around his erection, "Right here."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or slap him in exasperation, "Oh for the Maker's sake, Carver!"

He looked at me like I was stupid, "I'm fine. I was just pretending to limp for your benefit to get you alone. Even Alistair and Elissa were in on it. I don't hurt anywhere at all." Then he amended, "Well, aside from the aforementioned."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head at him, unable to stop the amusement that was coming over me _and _the relief that he was perfectly healthy again. I smacked his arm, "Maker curse you," and to taunt him, I went back to the door, "Have fun with your hand."

Carver was on me in an instant, dragging my giggling form into bed. We struggled upon the sheets, my hands shoving him off me, his hands ripping at my dress and I alternated between cursing him and laughing. Recovering patient or not, I didn't offer much resistance against his vigour and strength and ended up lying completely naked beneath him, out of breath and giggling, dress thrown aside and forgotten.

"You are infuriating," I threw at him and he kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose and then my lips as I continued to protest, "I can't believe you set me up! And with my brother and sister-in-law, no less!"

His laughter was rough against my ears but silken against my flesh, "I wanted you to _nurse_ me back to health."

I shivered as he spoke and his eyes gleamed as he felt my reaction. Then his hands were upon my body, large and so strong, so possessive, it sent heat curling – no, spiralling- through my body. Desire shocked me yet his movements were tender, seducing me with care. His next kisses were gentle and light, like a question that coaxed me for more.

The world seemed to fall away and all I could feel were his muscular arms wrapped around me, his hard body pressed against mine and his perfect mouth, stealing my breath and mind. I murmured, "I thought I was the mage. You're casting a spell to make me forget what we were just talking about."

He smiled, eyes clouded over with yearning, "We were talking about nursing me back to health."

"Ah, right…" I trailed off, offering my lips back to him for more drugging kisses. He murmured against me, "You are so beautiful, so lovely… I love you, so much…"

I teased him complacently, "Any less would be utterly unacceptable," and he laughed against my neck, his breath causing me to shiver some more. I darted my tongue over my bottom lip, meaning only to moisten and he groaned before covering my mouth with his, moving over me voraciously, tasting me deeply, nibbling at me with sensuality. His teeth caught my bottom lip with exquisite gentleness, lightly tugging on it before letting go. My fingers trailed down his sides, wanting to feel each ridge of muscle beneath my fingertips.

Carver's lips skimmed downwards, branding my nipples with heat and liquid flame. I closed my eyes against the need, shaking beneath him as his tongue created a longing ache within me. I was liquid heat, pulsing only for him. He was tender in his exploration, stilling my hands as they travelled down to pleasure him. I tried to protest, rolling over him to caress his chest, fingers lightly scratching at his stomach, "I thought I was supposed to be nursing you."

His answer was to the point, rolling me onto my back, "Then let me take my medicine," and his teeth rasped over the underside of my breast whilst his blue eyes held mine captive, drowning me within the intensity of his hunger. His lips followed each rib, hands brushing along my hips and lower down, reaching my moist entrance, ready for his body. I rolled my hips towards his fingers, moaning low and soft and with a smile that neglected his own raging desires, he pressed into me, slow and deep.

"Carver…" I cried out, moving my hips faster to encourage him. He pressed his lips against my thigh, "I want to listen to you moan out for me. Let me hear you." Then his mouth was against the apex of my thighs, tongue caressing the shadows, taking on the path of his fingers.

The feeling that swept through me was turbulent, violent, like a storm of fire raging through me, wild and feral. My body was completely his, spinning out of control as he opened me wider, wrapping lips against the pleasure point, sucking and humming between his lips. My body rippled into climax, shuddering against him as he held me, cradled me, intimate and familiar.

So carried over by pleasure, I was barely aware of how he crawled over my body, arms around me, pinning me to the bed until he kissed me, letting me taste myself upon his tongue. He pulled me into his lap, my thighs straddling his naked hips, arms around his neck as I pressed my entrance intimately, suggestively, against the velvet of his hardened head. Then I slid downwards and gasped as he penetrated and in just one swift press, he was within me completely.

"You were made just for me," he whispered, "Just for me…" and I kissed his neck, tongue sliding to the base so I could suckle against the spot that made him shudder with need. I smiled as I felt his body's subtle shiver, how it changed so faintly, gentle to thrumming with energy, poised and ready.

His back was already damp, his gentle touch needing tremendous effort. I rained kisses along his cheek, pressed my lips against his temple and threaded my fingers into his hair, rolling my hips in sluggish rhythm. Carver was hot upon me, burning within me, scorching my body with a heat that made me kick the sheets away. He rocked back to me, a long and sure stroke that had me digging my nails into his arms. I brushed my lips along his collarbone, moving back and forth to match the rhythm of his hips.

Then there was Carver… only Carver. No bed beneath me. No ceiling above. No windows. No light. No darkness. Only Carver. I clutched to him, wanting to cry from the way he made love to me. I was precious and beautiful, treasured and loved. The pressure built with each firm stroke, my body tightening just as his continued to harden, fighting against himself to take me as he truly wanted. Untamed and wild. When I cried out, needing release, it was only then that he allowed himself to bury with hard strokes, merging with me completely.

I could feel his pleasure, feel his love. He took my hand and clamped it to his chest, his heart pumping quickly beneath his skin. "Hales," he whispered and it came out like an ache. I knew it. I could feel it as our bodies and minds merged together, the whip of magic slicing all about us. Mad. Wild. Crazy. I could feel his need to bury himself so deeply that I could never get him out.

"Touch me, Carver. Love me," and fell backwards as he pushed me down, using all his strength to prolong the exquisite friction, not wanting to cave to the pleasure. He kept me at the peaks, keening over and over again for relief that he didn't want to give me just yet. Carver was hot and hard, swelling more and more within me. My fingers pressed deep into his skin, just trying to hang onto the never ending bliss. Touching, caressing, holding him as close to me as I could.

Carver was everywhere – in my mind, body, heart and soul. Fire raged and pulled at both of us, the echoes of pleasure ringing between both our bodies, shared and singular. His mouth became hungry, frenzied, teeth nipping at my neck until I convulsed with pleasure, forgetting where I left off and he began. Each stroke was harder and faster and every fibre of my being pulsed with _life_. But it wasn't enough – never enough.

It would take so little to drive us over the edge but he extended the moments until it became too much. I felt his body clench in anticipation at the inevitable drop. I felt my breath pause. His heart stop. My mind an empty existence. His love my only world.

Around him I unconsciously tightened, both of us rolling right over the sheer drop. Lights exploded, magic burst, stars burned away and Carver was right there, holding me close as I flew and soared. The pleasure shattered with an intensity I couldn't ever forget and I felt his surrender as I gave my own, a selfless giving of mind and soul.

As we lay locked together, we held each other tightly, determined never to let go. I felt my eyes water, squeezing them shut so he wouldn't see. Overwhelmed by his love, I murmured, "I love you… I love you." Here was someone who cared for me, loved me and though a monster of darkness could lie within me, he believed in my goodness.

I curled into his chest as his hands stroked my hair, lips brushing against the crown of my head before rolling me onto my back so he could lower his head to mind, giving me a hard kiss that melted into a languorous movement of lips and tongue. When he lifted, he commented, "You look drowsy, lethargic and completely loved."

I smiled, "I feel thoroughly loved," and teased, "Who would have known? Big, bad Carver loves being gentle."

He nipped at my ear with a chuckle, "I can take you on your hands and knees to make up for it."

I arched into him, "Later… Too tired."

He smiled, climbing over me to reach for the vanity. When he collapsed back on the bed, he tossed a small box at me, "Open it."

I frowned at him and decided to do so and found my face freezing. Sapphires and diamonds winked up at me, stones set in what appeared to be very rare metals. A ring. With _very large_ stones. He watched me with nonchalance, resting his weight upon one elbow, propped up and lying on his side. I looked back to the box then back to him then back to the box. Was he wanting to… surely no?

"What? What is this?" I questioned, curiosity rankling in my voice, breaking a little.

"This is me telling you that you should marry me," he said with a partial shrug, "I want to make you a Hawke again."

"Oh." I stared at him, bemused that he was completely _not_ nervous. At all. I blinked, once then twice until he broke the silence, "I think this is where you say yes or no," reaching for the ring and sliding it over my left, ring finger.

With a smile, I kissed him and murmured, "I don't think I've been given a choice."

He threw the box over his shoulder and rolled onto me, "Nope," he said completely unrepentant, "You really haven't," his hands running down my sides, "You _have_ to marry me."

I laughed and teased, "What a proposal! Such charm and charisma, Carver. Such delivery whilst _naked_."

He grinned before taking my hand in his, kissing the back of it with reverence, "You are all I've ever wanted, all I'll ever need and I will always be there with you. Every day. Marry me."

It was simple and it was easy. It was perfect and it was wondrous.

"Yes," was all I had to say before he kissed me again, brushing aside all of my fears that I was only a leashed monster, swept away beneath his love and faith in my goodness.

It was healing, for us both.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey, here as promised - chapter 23! I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It is, for me, a bit of a conclusion for all of Hawke's inner struggles and for Carver to compromise a little on his (as per usual) inflexible stance. Please let me know what you think! Read and review, please!

Love, Ann


	24. Secret Wedding

**Chapter 24 – Secret Wedding**

_Carver_

For whatever reason, when people talk about weddings, there is a large emphasis upon the woman, upon her thoughts and feelings, upon her arrangements, upon her make up or her dress or her flowers. Most people also generally consider the bride when she walks down the aisle. Few people actually turn their heads and look back to the groom to wonder just what in the Maker's name he is thinking.

Funnily enough, our wedding preceded Sebastian's. Perhaps it was because of the rather quiet nature of the wedding. Hales wanted something small and simple. I was hardly about to argue. A wedding is our day, our night, ours. Period. It shouldn't have to be shared with nobles who don't really give a damn. Only a few friends were invited. Our group – Aveline and Donnic, Anders and Fenris, Isabela, Merrill, Varric, Sebastian and Lady Josephine, Charade and Gamlen. Alistair and Elissa were, of course, present. There were a _few_ nobles – Arl Eamon, Lady Isolde amongst a few others but overall, it was truly a small wedding. There wasn't even a royal proclamation until _after_ the fact.

To be honest, it was Elissa that handled most of the arrangements with various opinions from Hales and me. We had the final say but she did handle most of it. It certainly gave each of us a lot of time to consider what we would be wearing. Hales spent a very long time holed up in a room with her other female friends; their tittering could be heard from almost three corridors away. I wasn't allowed to see her dress. I didn't understand why that was and Alistair had shrugged, "It's tradition. That's just how it is."

The night before the wedding, I was horded into some kind of bachelor party with all the men whilst Hales spent the night with the females for the feminine equivalent. It was mostly tame. There was the obligatory brothel girl who danced about, taking all her clothes off. There were the rude jokes and the claps on the back with lines like, "No more fun in your life now, Carver!" and "Last night to run!" Mostly, it was just family, all of us sitting around sharing stories, laughter and a few drinks. Strangely, I wasn't nervous. Not even slightly. I couldn't believe I was _actually_ getting married. When I was younger, I would have thought I'd want to be free forever but I couldn't think of anyone else but Hales. I did wonder whether she got a stripper for her party. Knowing Isabela, that was probably a resounding yes.

It wasn't until morning when a loud rapping against the door of the spare room I was sleeping in woke me up that I actually felt nervous. What if Hales changed her mind? The thought made my chest tight with fear. Would she? What if the stripper last night – I tried to shake the thoughts away, laughing at myself. This was Hales. She wouldn't, would she?

And because I hadn't answered the door, Alistair stomped in. The first words out of my mouth were, "She hasn't run off with anyone, has she?" His only reaction was to laugh, his entire body actually shaking until he collapsed at the foot of the bed, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I shouldn't laugh," he tried to stifle his smile, "I understand that feeling but no, she hasn't run off with anyone. She's been up for a while actually, getting her hair done. I didn't think you'd need that much time though."

I collapsed upon the bed again, "Thank the Maker."

He snorted and whacked my shin, "Don't tell me you've got a hangover. You need to be in the courtyard in an hour."

I rolled my eyes, "Plenty of time."

It wasn't really plenty of time though. It was just enough. By the time I had bathed and dressed, I had just enough time to make a brisk walk for the altar.

I realized, as I dressed, that I rather enjoyed the silken, formal attire. The open collar light blue shirt and black doublet combination brought out my eyes, as Elissa had suggested, and Hales was right – the tailored dress pants and shoes did bring out that rugged sort of elegance. Overall, I was really happy with my appearance. It wasn't often that I indulged in dressing for a formal occasion but on the off chance that I did, I especially enjoyed how Hales' eyes would run down my body with feminine approval.

It was a bright and sunny day but the courtyard's trees had been trimmed to a length that brought soft and dappled light across the aisle. As I paced about, Sebastian, Fenris and Anders stood to the left of the archway of the altar whilst Elissa, Aveline and Isabela stood to the right. Those few moments were the longest of my entire existence. What if she decided she'd rather marry a stripper than me? It was imbecilic but it ran through my mind anyway.

And then the nobles stood, all of their heads turned towards the aisle. Then there she was, upon the arm of her brother, my breath caught in my chest and the moment lengthened. My heart stopped. I was so caught up by her expression, the glimmer of happiness in her eyes, the smile that widened when her eyes fell upon me. Her lovely curls framed her face, making her seem even sweeter, even more angelic.

One step at a time, she floated towards me, her dress wrapping perfectly around her. It was a flawless mix of lace and silk. The off-shoulder sleeves and collar were of lace, creamy skin teasingly shown to me until silk covered from the swell of her breasts, draping down her curves. When she reached me, Alistair passed her hand to me, his words teasing yet serious, "Look after her now or else!"

I grinned in response, sparing him only a glance before I turned back to Hales, looking at how her veil was thrown behind her, trailing down, partially hiding her back that was covered in a sheer layer of curly patterned lace. Stunning, wondrous, I forgot that I had an audience and muttered to her, "Maker, you look beautiful."

Though I heard an old lady giving the Maker's blessing, though I heard the sniffles of friends and family, all I saw was her. Everything was her and when we spoke our vows, I similarly forgot the world. Here was the girl I had been waiting for my entire life. She was _never_ going to get away.

There were speeches made all through the day and night as each guest spoke words of congratulations, best wishes etcetera but I don't really remember most of them. I do remember making my own speech though. I had stood up, cleared my throat somewhat in a less than graceful manner that caused Hales to titter beside me, looking up at me from her seat. After a smile and an eyeroll directed at her, I began.

"First of all, I want to thank everyone for their best wishes and I'm grateful for the presence of all friends and family who have come to celebrate our wedding today. I want to especially thank Elissa," and lifted my glass of wine to her, "for putting up with us newlyweds and taking on so much of the arranging to make the day perfect. From my standpoint, she's had to put up with some rude jokes, untastefully large rings, bad acting amongst other things so, I'm grateful to be able to call her sister." Elissa smiled at me with an indulgent headshake whilst Alistair snickered beside her.

There was some applause before I turned to my bride, "Hales, I can't say I remember everything about my life or everything about our lives. We've grown up together and I think there are countless experiences that by now, I've forgotten about but I couldn't ever forget you, your everlasting courage and kindness, your eternal love that you've had for me for as long as I've known you. Whether I knew it or not at the time because, let's face it, I was a brat for a while there," there was some intermittent laughter at my confession and she covered her lips to stifle her giggle, "I've probably been falling in love with you from the first moment I laid eyes on you and a part of me has always known that we'd be together from the moment I saw you singing to yourself outside my bedroom window in Lothering, waking me up at ungodly hours, all flirtatious smiles and innocent kisses many years ago."

Hales knew what I was talking about, the sparkle in her eyes told me about the memories that she still remembered. I continued, "And it feels like its taken a really long time to get to where we are now, so I'm truly able to have you, hold you and love you forever as my wife." I watched her swallow the lump in her throat, watched her eyes sparkle with unshed tears, watched her mouth words of love to me.

"Just so you know," I grinned for a moment, "you're never going to be able to get rid of me. Not this time." There was some more tittering and she rolled her eyes at me. She needed to hear it and I needed to acknowledge our separations, our fights because they were a token from the past that led to our future now.

I lifted my glass of wine, "So I want to propose a toast. To us. To loving you forever, whether here or in another life and world. However long eternity turns out to be, I will always be beside you, I will always support you and I will always be yours and yours alone."

There were cheers of support as I finished my speech, rampant applause as I drained my glass dry and whistles of appreciation as I lifted my lovely bride into my arms for slow and deep kisses, and the echoing of loving laughter in my ears as I carried her back to our rooms so I could partake in her sweetness again and again.

* * *

><p>AN: Second last chapter! I hope I stayed true to the character of Carver when I wrote this. I kept it short and (hopefully) sweet and hoped the sincerity of Carver came through with his playful, devil-may-care attitude.

As always, please R&R and as always, you have my love!  
>Ann<p> 


	25. Secret Eternity

**Chapter 25 – Secret Eternity**

_Hales_

Whether one believes it or not, a lifetime can pass right before your eyes, especially if it is full of happy days. Happiness seems to make everything pass by quicker. As the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun. Almost six decades on, I am an old woman, a very old woman and I have done and seen much in my life but I suspect the same can be said of all my friends as we were once a group of adventurers, thirsting for excitement and life beyond the routine.

Merrill found her clan, a group of the Dalish living upon the borders of Ferelden land. She lived a simple elven life, living off the land, marrying and eventually bearing children. Once, she had need to learn of elven past, reach out into the unknown and relearn the ancient ways but such ambitions eventually simmered down and she found that the simple life was perhaps the best. She passed away a few winters ago, peacefully in her sleep.

Aveline and Donnic remained in Kirkwall, forever guarding the citizens of Kirkwall. She eventually had a large brood of children, all of them sharing the same mop of red hair that Aveline had, all of them taking over the 'family business', so to speak, and guarding various cities with their lives. I hear tell that the eldest, Matthew, recently became Guard-Captain in Orlais! Both of them have retired now, living out their twilight years in relative peace.

Isabela continued her pirate ways, living a life on the constant run. She visited as often as she could, each time her tales getting wilder and wilder until one day, her ship crashed along the shores of Antiva and I never heard from her again. Sometimes, I wonder if she is still alive or if she is elsewhere, having her own private sex party.

Varric, like Isabela, continued his single life with Bianca, extending his network for the rest of his life. He continued to fight many battles against the Carta and other parties he refused to name but unfortunately, died quite the number of years ago when he was overwhelmed. We found Bianca beside his body and buried them together. Still, I imagine that he would have wanted to go with a bang.

Mikhail found a wife and worked his way through Kirkwall politics to eventually become Viscount of Kirkwall. He, of course, immediately signed treaties of alliance with both Starkhaven and Ferelden. All three nations benefited as a result and no stronger alliance was ever seen in the history of Thedas. I believe his only child, Maria, is now ruling over Kirkwall as a Viscountess with an even hand after he stepped down from the throne.

Sebastian eventually married Lady Josephine and the two shared a most amicable marriage. They had three sons, Richard, Eugene and Victor, and perhaps it was due to the way Sebastian was brought up but the youngest was the most spoilt. Victor, for a while there, truly did take on Sebastian's more wild days but thankfully, he eventually settled down and became a very talented strategist. I must admit that out of his three sons, I had a rather soft spot for Victor, his intelligence and mischievous nature constantly keeping me entertained. Then there was also his silver, honeyed tongue, it was difficult to find a woman who didn't fall for his charm. One day, though, I suspect and hope that a woman will keep him on his toes. The mighty always fall hard.

Fenris and Anders continued as they were, keeping me company every day, leading their own quiet lives. Both spent much time training Ferelden's soldiers but aside from that, they had as much free time to spend together, their love burning brightly despite the fact that no one ever spoke the words.

Alistair and Elissa continued as King and Queen for about a decade and a half more, ruling over Ferelden with relative ease and fair balance. Very little really changed between me and them, our relationship growing ever stronger and ever deeper with each day that passed. Alistair was always there for me, through thick and thin, right or wrong, good and bad, and to my secret delight, his need to crash my room with platters of cheeses was a pattern that never really changed. Although after Carver and I were married, he learned to knock which was probably a really good thing considering Carver's insatiable nature.

As for me and Carver, we eventually became King and Queen. It was perhaps as Father had once said. We were certainly in the position to make craters or leave deep impressions upon the world. The coronation was _awkward_ to say the least. Carver had made it abundantly clear that whilst he would assume the position and help me in any way possible, the final decision would always be mine, often deferring to me. He often reminded me rather petulantly, "I am _not _the King of Ferelden. I am the husband to the Queen of Ferelden. Distinct difference."

He and I shared a most strange relationship but I am certain that is not so surprising. Yes, we had our fair share of arguments and fights but somehow, it always ended up with the two of us kissing angrily and passionately, Carver's hands ripping at whatever clothes I had on. Afterwards, we would talk about it and somehow, and sometimes I still am unsure of the how, the matter would resolve. He kept true to his word though and in everyday, he was beside me.

We had three children. Aristide, the eldest favoured daggers and stealth. Bethany, the only girl we had was a very talented mageling. Maurevar, brawny and broad, favoured great big broadswords.

And all of them were a token to the past that gave us our future.

Though over the years, I have ruled Ferelden, made many changes to my kingdom that has given my people both prosperity and affluence, I am as much Ferelden's Queen as I am a Mother and much of my time was very well spent with my children.

Unsurprisingly, my children were quite the handfuls growing up. All of them possessed strong personalities and stubborn traits but all of them also possessed goodness in their hearts, kindness and care. In some ways, they fought often but in other ways, they never fought at all.

As Bethany had once told me after a particularly spectacular brawl in which all three of them sported multiple bruises and split lips, "We're a family of screamers. You and Daddy scream and fight. The three of us scream and fight. Raised voices are our way of saying 'I love you'."

In private and just between the two of us, Carver displayed his ability of showing the very many interpretations of "You and Daddy scream and fight".

Carver made a wonderful father, strict when necessary but loving always. Sometimes it surprised me how easy it was for him to step up to the task. Both maturity and immaturity was a good look on him and perhaps, that was why he succeeded so magnificently in the task. The children adored him, always clambering over him to sit upon his shoulders, nagging at him to tell more stories about our lives together.

Children are wily little creatures and they know when they can push their limits and when to back away. They knew they could get away with picking on Carver, climb onto his back and shoulders. With me, they were much gentler, always hugs and damp kisses, always _showing_ me the newest slimy find in the garden rather than _dumping_ it in my lap.

I had never thought I could ever be so happy.

It was almost three decades after my wedding before the Calling arrived, taking Alistair, Elissa and Anders in one fell swoop. It was a difficult year, one I could barely adjust to if it weren't for Carver. That was the one year in which Carver was actively King. I felt as though my heart had been torn apart without my family.

And Fenris, unable to take the absence of Anders in his life, left the castle not long after they died. He travelled to many places, sent me many letters but never returned to Ferelden again. When one day, the letters stopped coming, I understood what it represented. The castle had never seemed more quiet and even my children were more subdued than they had ever been for a very long time.

But just as one year can take so much away from you, it can also give. By the end of the year, my daughter was with child and my sons were also coming to that stage where they were considering marriage. That was a very strange thing for me to accept. Growing older, realizing that your children are not really children anymore but adults in their own right was bittersweet.

Aristide had told me, "We understand how it is, Mom. You'll always worry and we'll always be your babies but," he said with Carver's shining blue eyes and a beatific smile, "we are growing up and you really don't need to worry so much about us."

Bethany had just giggled from the hearth of the fireplace, one hand on her growing stomach, chocolate brown eyes glinting in the fire whilst Maurevar came to my other side, kissing my cheek, Alistair's honey-browns staring into mine, "We love you, Mom. So much."

"I just can't believe how grown up you all are… wasn't it just yesterday that you were skinning your knees and looking for worms to play with?" I had questioned with wistfulness in my voice.

Carver had kissed the top of my head, help me in his arms and murmured, "Feels that way sometimes but don't worry, given Bethany's swollen womb, we'll have skinned knees very soon."

Bethany had glared at her Father playfully.

I decided to retire from the throne not long after that and though I was relieved, there was no surprise that my three children had decided amongst themselves the roles and duties with peace. Aristide ruled as a great King, Bethany taught as a First Enchanter in the Magi Circle and Maurevar fought as a Templar. We had a little of everything in our family, it seemed.

It seemed right and I never had to worry. They worked so well together. None of them were truly interested in the titles. None were interested in who the King actually was. As Maurevar had said with some brashness, "None of us bloody cares who the King is. We can all take turns at wearing the crown if it bloody well means that much."

I tutted him, "Language."

His reply was, "Blame Dad."

But when Carver died a few years ago, his body catching a disease that it couldn't heal from, I was heartbroken and my life for a while seemed grey and dark without him. It had taken a few days for him to pass, a long and drawn out process that left me broken and sobbing by his side whilst he attempted to placate through heaving coughs.

Without my heart beside me, I felt miserable. My children helped, made my mourning easier and they never left me alone so that I could think of the loneliness I felt.

Once again though, just as life takes, life gives and I was able to watch my great grandchildren being born into the world, our family of Hawke's spreading out into the world, each of them giving me endless reasons to live and love and laugh again.

But I am an old woman and an old woman knows when it is her time.

I take slow steps into the garden, no longer as agile and quick as I once was and sit down at the base of a tree, staring out into the sky's sunset as I wait for the four generations of Hawke's to gather for dinner. I feel tired, so tired and just for a moment, I close my eyes to rest.

"Hello, love."

I open them and Carver is standing on the grass in front of me, a young man again, his blue eyes as bright as the sky and his lips, his perfect mouth, stretching into a smile. He couldn't be any older than twenty-one again, wearing a ripped doublet, black breeches and boots.

I smile and ask him, "What are you doing here?"

Carver grins and jokes, "Haven't you had enough of life without me?"

He always did say the worst things but I laugh anyway, still falling more and more in love with him every day. "Are you here to take me away?"

Easily, he flops beside me on the grass, warm and strong hands taking my cool and wrinkled ones. He asks again, a little more serious this time, "Haven't you had enough of life without me?"

"The children are coming," I say simply.

He nods, understanding my need to say goodbye, "I will stay with you."

When I blink again, I realize that I was dreaming, had fallen asleep and my children, my grandchildren, my great grandchildren are waking me, asking me if I feel alright. I stare into their faces, a mixture of my features and Carver's. I stare into chocolate brown eyes, sky blues and even Alistair's honeyed ones and I say simply, "Carver's come for me," and the knowledge is joyous but bittersweet at the same time.

There are smiles, there are tears, there are long embraces, tight hugs and kisses of affection, some even a little sloppy and wet but it is time and though I will miss seeing my children every single day, I know the intermittent pause is not as long as it really does seem at times. And when I close my eyes again, death is kind, easy and swift, painless as falling asleep.

When I wake, I am with Carver and I am young again, my long hair decorated with flowers pinned behind my ear like I am no more than the farm girl I used to be. I stare around me and it is as though nothing has changed. I am still in Ferelden, the grass is still as soft, the skies still as blue, even the castle sits as it once did.

I ask him, "So, this is heaven?" It is surprising. I had expected… clouds or maybe a huge golden gate that would open up to me. It was faintly anti-climactic.

"It is life as we once lived it, only different," he replies before shrugging, "You'll see."

Then from afar, I can see a huge group of people waiting for me, the ones I have loved and will always love. Alistair waves at me, his smile bright and young again. I can hear Elissa giggling, caught up in conversation with Sebastian. Fenris is curled up to Anders, both of them leaning against a tree, peaceful smiles and loving eyes directed at me. Isabela is… drunk but that is hardly surprising, a gleam of true contentment in her eyes. Varric is fondling Bianca, Merrill is still giggling naïvely at a joke and her husband is standing proudly by her side. Mother and Father are standing with Bethany's enthusiastically bouncing form, all of them healthy, young and eager to see me. They're waving, all of them laughing and things are really not as different as I thought, and feared, they might have been.

As I make my way towards them, I am pulled into Carver's chest and his eyes stare into mine with expectance. He says in a demanding tone, "I have waited years to kiss you again. They can wait."

We share a kiss and it is perfection incarnate, deep and sweet, his tongue sliding between my lips without thought, his arms holding me tight against the strength of his chest. I can feel the hums of lyrium still connecting with my mana, feel his relief at being able to hold me again, hear his voice as he whispers in my mind.

_Let's just go. Skip the party. I want you alone, need you alone… right now._

I laugh and skip away, my legs capable of quick movements now, twisting out of his grasp.

_Nice to see your insatiable need for my body hasn't changed even after dying. Although, you've been waiting this long, a little while longer won't kill you. I'm sure you can handle the stress._

He laughs despite himself and sweeps me off my feet, carrying me in his arms like he used to, as though I still weigh only a feather and throws at me, "Tease, don't think I'm not considering scandalizing our family by making love to you right here on the grass," before kissing me again as my arms wind around his neck and he walks the rest of the way to the group.

And just as he releases me, just as he lets me turn to the others, Carver repeats in my ear what he once said to me at our wedding, almost a lifetime ago, "However long eternity turns out to be, I will always be yours. I love you and I always will."

* * *

><p>AN: And it is finished! I know the tone of this chapter was different from the rest, I hope it didn't mess up the entire story and still managed to flow on.

I'm hoping that since Arcanum is finally finished (I know it has taken a while), I hope my reviewers and readers will do me the favour and send me one last comment about their feelings and emotions and opinions about the entire story as a whole and tell me where my skills as a writer could be improved. Let me know what you liked, what you didn't like and what you totally hated, I really want to hear from everyone.

I still cannot believe it's over. I still cannot believe that I managed to finish this fic. It started as a prompt, an idea and it branched out into a novel length story and it has been such a challenging piece for me. I have never really written something so long and so in-depth before and I really hope I did a good job. I'm proud of it, whatever the case.

Thank you to all the reviewers, for all of your kind words of encouragement and praise. I have been so grateful and so blessed by the amount of kindness I've received for this fic (and others too) and I'd just like to let you all know how thankful I am. In particular, I'd like to mention two people:

Mistress Vo - I cannot put in words how much you've done for me. You're endless enthusiasm and encouragement has been one huge reason for this final product and your editing skills have saved me so much stress! You have spent countless hours listening to me yap on and on about all of my different ideas and you have always been there for me. Sister, we've often spoken about life and love but as for soulmates, I think I found one right here. I love you. Thank you so much.

Hatsepsut - You have, in particular, been so active in giving me comments and lovely reviews. I just wanted to put you up here to say I've noticed and I'm very grateful!

Finally, I have decided that for a little while at least, I will probably go on a hiatus in terms of writing fanfiction. I'll still be around if anyone wants to shoot me messages but I've decided to try my hand at some original fiction. If I do ever get it written and if I am lucky enough to have it published, I'll post a message up here to let you all know! I hope you will all support me in this.

Please R&R and please always know that you have my love.  
>Ann<p> 


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